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Library of 
Walter L. Stobblags 










By ROBEliT KKIill, Aiichitect,; 




DODD, MEAD & COMPANY, Publisukks. 





Introduction 1 

I. — Traxsjition Style 8 

II. — Renaissance. Inigo Jones — Wren 20 


IV. — Classical Revival . 70 

V. — Gothic Revival 96 

VI.— Recent Architecture. The EjkicU of 1851 -The Internntional Exhibi- 
tion— Archit ctural Work in 1851 — The Crystal I'alac*^; Digby 
Wyatt; Pugin — hlffeirt upon Architecture — Draughtsmanship— Pro- 
grt-ss from 1851 to the D.'atli of the Prince Consort — Progress, 1860 to 
1870—1870 to 1880— Since 1880— Illustrations 121 

VII. — British Colonial Arctiitecture. Canada — Australia and New Zealand 170 


Introduction 178 

I.— Renaissance. Ecclesiastical— Secular 180 

II.— Revival. Ecclesiastical, Munich — Walhalla — Secular, Munich — Berlin 

— Dresden — Vienna — Berne 191 

III.— Recent Architectuhe 220 


I.— Belgium 229 

II. — Holland 235 

ni.— Denmark 237 

IV.— Hambtrgh 240 

V. — Sweden and Nobway 242 

VI. — Recent ABCUiTicTrBE 245 


Introduction 249 

I.— Ecclesiastical 253 

II — Seci^lab 267 

in. — Rkvital 275 

rv. — BiCENT Abchitectl-re 282 

VOL. II. b 




India— Introduction 284 


II.— The Spaniards, DoicH, AND Fbench 289 

III.— The English 292 

IV.— Natite Architecture 300 

V. — Recent Architecture 307 


I.— Mosques 310 

II. — Palaces .. ,i 316 


I.— Mexico 320 

II.— Peru 324 

III. — North America 327 

IV.— Washington 330 

V. — ^Philadelphia, Ac 338 

VI. — Ecclesiastical 340 

^^I. — Recent Akchitectvre in the United States. Apology — EixKih of 
1851 — Aft<-r tlie War — Importution of Euio|)0:in Stylos — Timl.>or-work 
an«l Iron — Professional Guild iin«lJournali»m — Philistinism — Style — 
Richardson — Ecclesiastical Dcsifrn — Secular Gothic — Ordinary 
Classic - Uomcbtic — Notes — Tl:e Future 343 


Intnduction — Const ruction <»f Modern Theatres — Lyric Theatres — 
Dramatic Theatres — Music Halls— Recent Theatres 375 


Bridges and Railway Stations — Architectural Engineering — Ftrro- 
Vitreous Art— Military Engineering 409 


DRALS 432 


( ^ ) 



Victoria Tower {Frontispiece). 

154. Gate of Honour, Caius College, 

Cambridge 10 

155. Court of Clare College .. .. 11 
150. Plan of Longleat House .. .. 1*2 

157. Elevation of part of Longleat .. 13 

158. View of VVoUaton House .. .. 14 
150. Gateway of Heriot's Hospital .. 17 
160. Win<low-hea<l Ornament .. .. 18 

101. Pilaster Ornaments 18 

102. Itlock Plan of Inigo Jones's De- 

si ijn for the Palace at White- 
hall 21 

10 \ r>iagram of Inigo Jones% I>esign 
l«>r the Pahu'e at Whitehall, 
Westminster Front 22 

101. Diagram of Kiver Front of Inigo 
Jones's Design for the Palace 
at Whitehall 22 

105. Banqueting House, W^hitehall .. 24 

100. East Elevation of St. Paul's, Co- 
vent Garden 25 

107. Plan of Villa at Chiswick .. 20 
168. Elevation of Villa at Chiswick . . 27 
109. Favade of Wilton House, Wilt- 
shire 27 

170. Elevation of the House of Ames- 

burr, Wiltshire 29 

171. Plan of St. Paul's Cathedral, as 

originally designed by Sir 
Christopher Wren 31 

172. Side Elevation of St. Paul's 

Cathedral, an shown in the 
model of the first design .. 32 
173 Diagram showing two modes by 
which the hollow curves of 
Wren's first design might be 
remedied 34 

174. Plan of St. Pauls Cathedral .. 30 

175. Half Section, half Elevation of 

the Dome of St. Paul's Cathe- 
dral 37 

176. West View of St. Paul's Cathe- 

dral 41 



177. Steeple of Bow Church .. .. 46 

178. Plan of St. Stephen's, Walbrook 47 

179. Section of the Interior of St. 

Steplion's, Walbrook .. .. 47 

180. View of the Interiorof St. James's 

Picaulilly 48 

181. Neville's Court, and Library, Tri- 

nity College, Cambridge .. 51 

182. Plan of Blenheim Palace .. .. 55 

183. Lesser Garden Front, Blenheim 50 

184. Elevation of Park Front of Cattle 

Howard 57 

185. Front Elevation of Wanstead 

House 58 

180. The North Front of the Treasury 

Buildinijs, as designed by Kent 59 

187. Interior View of St. Martin's-in- 

the-Fields 00 

188. Diagram siiowiug the effect of 

reversing the entablature in a 
pillar 01 

189. Radclitle Library, Oxford .. .. 02 

190. Southern Facade of the Northern 

portion of Somerset House .. 03 

191. View of the princi|ial Fa9adc of 

the College, Edinburgh .. ., 05 

192 Ground Plan of Keddlestoue Hall 66 

193. Portion of the Garden Front of 

Keddlestone Hall 67 

194. Favade of Holkham House .. 68 

195. Front Elevation of Newgale .. 69 
190. West Elevation of St. Pancras 

New Church 74 

197. East Elevation of the Bank of 

England 75 

198. portico of the London University 

Buil»lings,Gower Street.. .. 77 

1 99. Plan of tiie Portico of the British 

Museum 78 

2<M). Fa(;'a«le of the British Museum., 79 

201. Front View of the Fitzwilliam 

Museum, Cambridg'! .. .. 80 

202. Plan of St. George's Hall, Liver- 

pool 82 

b 2 



iro. PAOS 
203. View of St. George's Hall, Liver- ! 

pool 83 I 

'204. Grange House, Hampshire 84 
205. View of the New High School, 

Edinburgh 85 

20*>, New Building for the I^ndou 

University, Burlington Gardeun 86 

207. Tavlor nml Randolph Institute, 

Oxfonl 87 , 

2u8. Fava.le of the College of Sur- 

gKnns, Linculn*8-Inu-FicMs .. 88 

209. Southern Facade of Travellers* 

Club House 89 

210. Northern Facade nf Reform Club 90 

211. Park Front of Briilgt.'water House 91 

212. Clumber Park, as proposeil to be 

remwlelled by Sir <\ Uarry .. 93 

213. Town Hall, Halifax 95 

214. View of Fonthill Abl>ey, as it was 

in loi... .. .. .. .. %}o 

215. \Ve>t Front of St. Luke's, Chelsea loG 

21H, rian of Parliament IloU'^es, West- 

miH'.ter !•)>< 

217. River Fnuit of the Parliament 

Houses 109 

21H. Sectiou of (Vntrai ()t:tai;on. 

Parliament Houses 112 

219. New ^luseiim at Oxford .. .. IL) 
'2VM. Al/ St:nts' a,ur<h, f.ojhhn .. iLi.') 

219^ X/. r/;j.v„rs <Vv/; l:.S 

•2V.k\ F.ft's r-lfyc. /:'ii't'rir.f'i .. 14'» 

•J 197. M.u,r/,c.'tcr T-n Hall .. .. ;41 

21Hc. >Y. JAi;;v'5, AV,/<'.'//-,/A .. .. 14:.i 

'2\\\f. Tn-n III I Cnwi.'f't.m .. .. 14»; 

L'li*./. H.m'c, /,V'v;« /,<.!./ 147 

21 9^1. T'u- I. lu- C-jitrtit, luTi'lon, yurth 

/Jnfnin- (' 148 

219/. Hrhtot Cithr,:r:t! Ponh .. .. 149 

219'.' ('fiimiW'f - f'io'C in //»m/t'.s*'s 

//•'"Si\ Ki u;$in'iti'n 150 

219/. Lturthar IjhIjc, KiUiingtm .. 152 

219m. If'Usc lit Hinimjln Gtnlais, 

h'fns'UijfoH .. . .. ..153 

21ya. Chu':'h of the lion [nnij*\'Hts nt 

Ilamincr^mUh 155 

2\\kK St. Manj\ Portsea 150 

219/7. The Sih'Hjls. Oxford .. ..157 

219/. The Albi'rt MemnriM .. .. Wl 

2l9r \\'nreht.niS'\ Gla>.jinc lt»y 

2195. McGiH rnkersity, Montreal .. 171 '. 

219f. P'lrlittinmtnrij LUnanj, Ott<rr,i 17J 

2l9u. I'he JLnises iff Ptrlitnnenff Mel- 

f-ourne \':\ 

219x. Cittholir Citholr:!, Melftowne 174 

219//.'s of Parli'tment. Syinrtf .. 175 

219?. Dnlton* Warehnwe, Sydni^i/ .. 17»3 

220. Plan of St. Michael's Church, 

Munich 180 

221. Section of St. Michael's Church, 

Munich 180 

222. Plan of the Liebfraueu-Kirche, 

Dresden 181 

223. View of the Liebfrauen-Kirche, 

Dresden 182 

224. Plan of the Church of San Carlo 

Borromeo 183 

225. Church and Theatre in the Gen«- 

d'Armub Platz, Berlin .. .. 184 

220. Porch of Rathhaus. Cologne . . 186 

2'J7. Part of the Zwinger Palace, 

l)res<Ien 187 

228. Japanese Palace. Dresilen .. .. 188 

229. Brandenburg Gate, Berlin .. 189 

230. Exterior View of the Basilica at 

Munich 194 

231. Plan of Walhalla 196 

2:>2. Ruhmeshalle. near Munich .. 197 

233. C.lypt..thek, Munich 197 

234. PI UM»r Pinao.thek, Munirh .. 198 

2;55. Half Se(ti«»n, half Klevation of 

Pinarotliek, Munirh .. 199 

2.*.0. Part i.f the VnqMlv of the Public 

Library, Munich 200 

2.'.7. Nichi'Iai-Kinhe, IV^t^dain .. 202 

2:;S. Plan ..f tiie Museums at pM-rlin 204 

2:»y. Vievv ..f th»' MuM'iiiM, Ut-rlin .. 205 

240. Part of the of the IWiiM- 

iui; Sihool .it r.frlin .. 207 

241. <innijior'House> f.uini;the 'riii«-r- 

>:arti-n. IJerlin 209 

242. Palaie ol" C«»unt Pourtalt-s, 

liti 209 

24 >. Hi.iiso at Daiit/.iir 210 

244. Plan o." the Votif-Kir<ho ou the 

;j;la».i> at Virnna 213 

215. View of tlie SyuaiToirue at Pesth 214 

240. (lerman Spire at Prague .. .. 210 

247. (Jernian ^pire at Kuttenbiiri; .. 210 

248. Fetieral Pala.v at IVerne .. .. 218 
24S.I. S:rrtt Architrrtnn\ lV<Vi«'i .. 222 
248';. Ihrellln.] Hvuse, lU'.lin . . . . 223 
248.'. Parliament Ihrn^-. Berlin .. 224 
248J. T..C Votivt'Chunh, Menn^i .. 225 
248<'. Ihe Tnun ILi'l. Viam i .. .. 220 
24H/. A.'u/nm/. At/i'-n* 227 

249. Frttnt Klevation of Town Hall, 

Antwerp 232 

250. Virw of St. Anne, l>rui:'-^.. .. 233 

251. Front Klevation I'f Town Hall, 

Amsterdam 235 

252. View of the Kxrhange, Copen- 

hai;en 2!J7 

253. Ca>tle of Frederick-bofi: .. .. 238 

254. Plan of Palace .It Stockholm .. 243 

255. View of Palace at Stockh<dm .. 244 
255a. J'alaiadeJustiei'f /!russe\< .. 246 






























Ch'trch at Eindhoven 247 

University at Lund 248 

Churcii in the Citadel, St. Peters- 
burgh 254 

Elevation of Smolnoy Monastery, 
St. Petersburgh ' 256 

Plan of the Church of St. Nicho- 
las, St. Pet ersburgh .. 257 

Plan of the Church of Our Lady 
of Kasao, St. Petersburgh . . 258 

Half Section, half Elevation of 
the Church called du Rite 
Grec, St Petersburgh . . . . 259 

Plan of St. Isaac's Church, St. 
Peter.-iburgh 261 

North-East View of St. Isaac's, 
St. Petersburgh 262 

H.I If Section of the Dome of St. 
1s;kic\ St. Petersburgh .. .. 264 

Pt-rtion of the Fa(;ade of the 
Winter Palace, St. Petersburgh 268 

Piau of tlie Central Block of the 
Palace of the Grand Duke Mi- 
thael, St. Petersburgh .. .. 260 

Elevation, (ianien Front of the 
Palace of the Grand Duke Mi- 
chuel 270 

Portion of tlje lateral Favade of 
the Admiralty, St. Petersburgh 271 

Plan of the New Mu.seum at St. 
Petersburgh 276 

Pseudo-Arched Window, Mu>eum 
at St. Petersburgh 277 

Elevation of a jwrtion of the 
River Front, New Museum, St. 
Petersburgh 277 

View of the New Russian Church, 
Pari.^ 279 

Dutch Tombs, Surat 290 

Exterior View of the Cathedral 
at Calcutta 294 

Interior View of the Cathedral 
at Calcutta 295 

View of the Martini^re, Luck- 
now 302 

Begum Kotie, Lucknow .. .. 304 

Unitcrsitu nt Allahabad .. .. 306 

Palace at Baroda 307 

Canning College^ Lucknoo .. 309 

Mosque of Selim, Scutari . . .. 312 

Mosque in Citadel at Cairo .. 314 

Palace on the Bosphorus .. .. 317 

View of the Sultan's New Palace 
at Constantinople 318 

External View of the Cathedral 
at Mexico 321 

View of Side Aisle in the C ithe- 
dral at Mexico 322 

Arequipa Cathedral 325 


284. Plan of the original Capitol at 

Washington 331 

285. Plan of the Capitol at Washing- 

ton as it will be when com- 
pleted 332 

286. Half Elevation, Half Section of 

the Capitol at Washington . . 333 

287. View of the Capitol at Washing- 

ton, as it now is 335 

288. Tower of Smithsonian Institute, 

Washington 336 

289. New Treasury Buildings, Wash- 

ington. 337 

290. Girard College, Philadelphia .. 338 

291. State Capitol, Ohio 339 

292. View of Grace Church, New 

York 341 

292a. Trinity Church, Xe'c }'jrk .. .145 

202/>. Olcnc/iulet 352 

202c. Jnm Front, Aew York .. .. 354 

2i'2t/. Trinity Church, Boston .. ..359 

202f. Wimi Memoriil Librarn .. .. 360 

202/. li.C CalheJrai Acw York .. 362 

292/ St.J.tnics'sCuxrch.Sorr-rk 363 

202A. A.ethfKlist Church, New I'ork 364 

L'OJi. C'lurch at Ann-Arbor^ MicJiigm r>65 

•302/;. Anirs Building^ 3)ston .. .. 368 

292/. House at Los Angeles, Cali- 
fornia 369 

293 to .'OH. Diagrams of Theatrical 

Arrangements .. .. 380 to 385 

209. Plan of La Scala, Milan .. .. ^188 

300. Fa(; of La Scala, Milan .. 388 

oUl. Section of the Auditory of La 

Scala, Milan 389 

302. Plan of Academie de Musique, 

Paris 391 

303. Section of Academie de Musique, 

Paris 391 

304. Plan of the New Opera House, 

Paris 392 

305. View of the New Opera House, 

Paris 393 

306. Plan uf Old Opera House, Vienna 394 

307. Plan of the Theatre at Bordeaux 395 

308. Principal Fa<;ade of the Theatre 

at bordeau.\ 395 

309. Section of the Auditory of the 

Theatre at Bordeaux .. .. 396 

310. Plan of Theatre at Lyons, as 

orivrinallv constructed .. .. 397 

311. Plan of Theatre Historique, Paris 397 
31.'. Plan of Theatre at Versailles .. 398 

313. Section of Theatre at Versailles 308 

314. Plan of Drury L;ine Theatre .. 309 

315. Plan of Theatre at Mayence .. 400 

316. Section of Theatre at Mavcnce .. 400 

317. Victoria Theatre, Berlin .. .. 402 



:J2 ». 



View of the Summer Auditory 
of the Victoria Thentre, Berlin 403 

Flftn of Schinicel'4 Theatre, Ber- 
lin 404 

Diagram of Music Hall .. 407 

Fi\9aile of New 0|>era House, Paris 407 

Dee Bridge at Chester .. .. 411 

Interior uf the Station at King's 
Cross 414 

Exterior View of the Station at 
King's (!ross 415 

Faraile of Stra»»burg Railway 
Station, Paris 41G 


i S27. 


Ka^aile of Station, Newcastle, 
with intended portico .. 417 

Gateway at Castello del Lido, 
Venice 424 

Central Compartment of the Gra- 
nary at Modlin 425 

Diagram showiue the whule of 
the Facade of the Granarv at 
Modlin ' .. 425 

Diagmm Plan of Latin Cathedral 
arriingements 434 

I 331. Diagram Section of Latin Cathe- 
dral arrangements 435 






— >-s^fte< — 




To write a consecutive liistory of the Reiiiiissanc^ styles in Great 
Britain is ]_)erhap8 more difficult than it is with i*egard to those of 
any otl;er country of Europe. Not because the examples are few or 
far between, nor l)ecause they have not been examined with care or 
]>ul)lisheil in detail ; but on account of tlie devious and uncertain path 
their aivliitccts have followed, and the geneml absence of any fixed 
j)rinciples to guide them in their design, or any certain aim to which 
they wei'e persistently striving to attain. The difficulty is further 
aggravated at present by the aixihitectuml world being divided into 
two hostile camps — the Classical and the Mediaeval — following two 
entirely different systems of design and actuated by antagonistic 
principles. It becomes in consequence difficult to write calmly and 
dispassionately in the midst of the clamour of contending parties, and 
not to ])Q hmTied into opposition by the um*easoning theories that are 
propounded on both sides. 

The steps by w^hich the English were induced to adopt the 
Classical styles were slower and more uncertain than those which 
preceded its introduction into the other countries of western Euro}Xi. 
They clung longer to their Gothic feeUngs, and submitted to the 
trammels of Classical Art far more unwillingly than their neighboure. 
It is, in fact, almost literally true that Iidgo Jones^ was the eiirliest 
really Classical architect in England, and he wiis born the year before 
Vignola died, and was only tlu'ee yeare old when Palladio finished his 

» Born 1572; died 1652. 


career. The foundations of St. Peter's were laid a full centurv Ix'fore 
we had a Classical building of any kind in this count n* ; and the 
Escurial and the Tnileries had been long inhabited before we thought 
it necessary to tn' to rival them. 

The teaching, however, of Classical literatiuxi in our schools, and 
the example of the Continent, at last took effect. And when once an 
architect presented himself ca|Xible of producing designs in the new 
style, and exhibiting s}x*cimens in all their fashionable pro|K)rtion8, 
it l)ecame the rage with us, as it was on the Continent : and our 
ancestoi's out-Heroded Herod in the strict classical it v of tlicir useless 
porticoes and the purity with which they used the Ordere, wholly 
irresiKJCtive either of climate or situation : all this lx»ing only too sure 
a proof how little tnie feeling they at that time had for Art, and how 
completely they had lost tiie knowledge of the first prin(>i])les that 
ought to guide an architect in the pivpjration of his designs. 

In England, as in all other countries of mo<lern EurojK'. the arta 
followed in the same track as literatuiv, onlv that heiv thev hiirireil more 
l)ehind, and Classical forms and feelings are found in all our literary 
]mKluctions long Ixjfoi'e their intlut*ncc was felt in Art. When once» 
however, An*hitecturo fell fairly into the trap, she iKrame moixi 
enslaved to the rules of the dead art tlian literature ever was, and 
has hitherto found it impossible to iX'cover her liK'rty, while her now 
emanci|)ate<l sister i*oams at large exulting in her freedom. Still, it 
is im]H)ssible to i*ead such a jMyeni as S|x;nsi.T's ' Faery Queen,' and not 
to see that it is the expivssion of exactly the same fei'lings as those 
which dictated such desiirns as Audlev End or WoUaton. The one 
is a Christian Romance of the Mi«l(lle Ages, interlarded with Classical 
names and ill-understood allusions to heathen gods and goddesses — 
the others are (rotliit^ palaces, ]»lastei*e(l over with (V»rinihian i)ilastere 
and details whi<"h Represent the extent of knowledire to whicii men of 
taste had then reached in ivalising the greatness of Rcmian Art. 

It would Ikj difficult to lind two works of Art desiguiMl more 
essentially on the sjime principles than .Milton's * PanulLse Lost ' and 
Wa'u's St. Paul's Cathedral. The Bible narrative, transiK)sed into 
the form of a Greek epic, RMpiiivcl the genius of a Milton to make it 
tolerable ; but the s})lendour of even hLs p)wers does not make us less 
regret that he had not jnmred forth the ix)etry with which his iieatt 
was swelling in some form that would have fi\*ed him from the 
trammels which the ix.»dantry of his age im|K>sed upon him. What 
the Iliad and the /Eneid were to Milton, the Pantheon and the Temple 
of Peiu;e were to Wren. It was nwc^ssjirv he should trv to conceal 
his Christian churcrh in the guise of a Roman temj^le. Still the idea 
of the Christian cathalral is always present, and ivapjiejire in every 
fonn, but so, too, does that of the Heathen tem]>le : — two conflicting 
elements in contact, — neither sulwluing the other, but making their 


discord so apparent as to destroy to a veiy considemble extent the 
beauty either would jwssess if se|>artite. 

The sonorous prose of Johnson finds its exact counteiiwrt in the 
ponderous productions of Vanbrugli, and the elegant Addison finds 
his reflex in the conxjct tanieness of Chanibere. The Adamses tried 
to ix^pnxluce what they thought was pui*ely Classical Art, with the 
earnest faith with which Thomson l)elieved he was re]>roducing 
Virgil's Georgics when he wrote the ' Seasons.' But here our parallel 
ends. The poets had exhausted e\ery form of imitation, and longed 
for " fresh fields and pastui^s new," and in the lK.'ginning of this 
century wholly hved themselves from the chains their pi-edecessors 
had prided themselves in wearing ; but, just when the aix'hitects 
might have done the same, Stuart practically discovered and re\ealed 
to his countiymen the l)eauties of (ireek Ait. Homer and S()])h(jeles 
had long l)een familiar to us : — the Parthenon and tliu Temple on the 
Ilissus wei'e new. The ix)ets had had tlie distemper : the architcH."ts 
had still to ]3as8 through it : and for fifty long years the pillai"s of 
the Parthenon or the Ilissian Temi)le adorned clnu'ches and gaols, 
museums and magazines, shop fronts and city gates — ivorything and 
evervwheiv. At Lst a ruaction set in airainst tliis absurditv : not, 
alas I towards fixjedom, but towards a bondage as deep, if not so 
degrading, as that from which tlie enslaved minds of the pui)lic had 
just l)een emancipated. If the (ireek was incongruous, it was at least 
elegant and refined. The (Jotliic, though so k'autiful in itself, is 
hardly more in accordance with the feelings and tastes of the nine- 
teenth centuiT, and is entirely deficient in that purity and in the 
liigher elements of tlie Art to wliich the Greeks had attained, and to 
which we were fast a])])r(*aching when the fiood-tide of pseudo- 
Mediieval Art set in and overwhelmed us. 

At the Siime time, however, wc must not overlook the fact tliat the 
Gothic ivvival in this country is mainly an ecclesiastical movement, 
and the real hold it has upon the ]K*ople arises from their religious, 
not from their artistic feelings, and must l>e judged of accordingly. 
The four centuries which ela]>sed between the CVusades and the 
Reformation were not only the [)eriod of the Chuix-lfs greatest ascend- 
ency and glory, but they were those during which the Gothic style 
was invented and pixivailed. All of our cathedrals but one, and nine- 
tenths of our chuixjhes in towns, ninetV-nine in a hundred in countiT 
parishes, are in this style. The clergy, no doubt, look back with 
regret to those halcyon days when their ])ower was supreme and 
undisputed, and, while longing to bring them back again, ai-e justified 
in pleading that the style in which those churches were built, in 
wliich our forefathers prayed, and which are associated with all our 
own religious feelings, is that style in which all ecclesiastical edifices, 
at least, should still Ik; erected. If the Church of the ])res«.;nt day is 

H 2 


the same as that of the thirteenth century, thev are right. But if the 
world has projriiessed since then, it is dangerous that the Church 
should lag so long l)ehind, and nearly certain that the laity will not 
long be content with so i"etrograde a movement. Should this prove to 
l)e the case, the result will l>e that we shall have two antagonistic 
styles of Art in this countr}' : one ecclesiastical and retrograde, the 
other lay and progressive, and a conflict may arise which must confuse 
all true principles of Ait and prove fatal to any projKir develoj)ment 
of either stvle. 

The truth is, it reipiii-es very little knowledge of Art to know 
that both Classic and Gothic imitations nuist Ix) WTong ; — that any 
Art which is essentially false in its principles, and which depends on 
mere copying and not on thought for its effect, nmst l)e an al)surdity. 
But the pal)lic do not see this, and the instance of literature docs not 
apjx^r to them quite a logical parallel. Nor is it ; — for with us a 
poem is a plaything. It does not cost more to ])rint one moulded on 
the Givek E|K)3 than it does one nuKlelled after Dante, or one which 
is merely tiie outpouring of a heart too full to contiiin its imaginings. 
No one need buv unless thev like it, and manv live and die without 
giving the subject a senous tbougiu, or C4iring for literature at all, 
excei)ting at the utmost as the amusement of a jmssing hoim But 
the case is widely differe*ut when wc come to an art, the productions 
of which are not only ornamental, but useful at the sjune time, and 
indeed indisi>ensable to our existence, in this climate at least. From 
the higiiest to the lowest all men must siKiud money in the pHnluction 
of Arehitectural Art. Our comfort and our convenience mv affected 
by it every day of our lives ; our liealth, and not infreM|uently our 
wealth, is at the men-v of the aix-hiiect. Thoujrh we could tolerate 
and Ik; amused with a ]X)em which is an almost undetectable forgery, 
we cannot live in a tem])le or a cathedral, and the gloom of a feudal 
castle and the aiTangements of a monastery are e(iually foreign to our 
taste. It is, no doubt, easier to employ a clerk to copy details out of 
books than to set oneself to invent them ; and it is a givat relief to 
timid minds to l)e able to shelter themselves under the shield of 
authority : bm laziness or timidity is not the (piality that ever pro- 
duced anything great or gmnl in Art ; and till men are* ]>re'i«red to 
work and think for themselves, the study of ArehitcK^ture* in England, 
though it may In? interesting as a ] psychological or historical problem, 
can never rise to the dignitv of an illustration of tliat noble art. 

Only one other ])oint re^'piires to Xm noticed K'fore going into 
detail on English Renaissance Art. It was hinted in the Introduction 
to this volume that, during the i>erifxl of the Renaissance, Arehitecture* 
ceased to Ik.* a study among the u]>])er classes, and generally lKx.*ame the 
occuxuition of a very small, and fretpiently a lower and less educated. 


class of men than those who occupied themselves with literature. This 
is, perhaps, more strictly appliciible to England than to any other 
country. Not to be a scholar to a gi-eater or less extent has always 
been a reproach to an English gentleman. To he an artist, on the 
other hand, is to be eccentric and exceptional among the upper classes ; 
and proficiency in Art is almost as great a reproach to a gentleman as 
deficiency in literaiy knowledge is and always has l)een. 

This was more or less the case with all the nations of the Continent, 
but was more apparent in England than elsewhere\ It has l)een 
remarked above that, during the Middle Ages, not only the nobility 
and gentry occupied themselves with Art, but that the bi8hoi)s, and 
all classes of the clergy, from the highest to the lowest, looked upon 
Architecture as the master art, and considered a knowledge of it as 
lieing as indispensable to an educated gentleman as a knowledge of 
Latin is now. When, howe\cr, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, 
learning Ixx-ame more generally diffused, and a knowledge of the 
cliissics indis[X}nsable, the Arts ceased to be part of a gentleman's edu- 
cation ; and this has continued so till a \erv recent date indeed, thousrh 
connoisseui'ship might (K-casionally be considered fashionable. Such 
knowledge of any art as might enable a gentleman to practise it in the 
Siime manner as he might write vei*ses or compose an essay was wholly 
unthouirlit of. Architecture was tii*st releirated to bnildei-s, whose oidv 
business it was to produce the greatest extent of accouimodation, and 
the gi*eatest amount of effect, comjKitible with the least iM)ssible jn'ice. 
When by this process it had sunk into the abyss of Jacobean art, it 
was rescued from this depth of degradation, and taken u]) by a higher 
and l)etter class of minds, but always has been followed as a trade or 
profession for the sake of its ])ecuniary emoluments ; and, with the 
rarest jwssible exceptions, never practised from a mere love of the ait, 
or from an imiate desire to produce beauty. Nor are the architects to 
blame for this. A ]xxit or piinter can realise his dreams at his own 
cost, and give them to the pul)lic as he creates them. An architect 
cannot work without a i)atron ; and when the u]>]km* classes are not 
imbued with a love of Art, and have not the knowledge sufficient to 
enable them to appi*eciate the beaiuiful, the arc*hite(!t nmst be content 
to 8tercoty|XJ the taste of his employei's, or to starve. AVhen the tiiste 
of the public in Ai'chitecture is as low or as mistaken as it has long 
been, the highest class of minds will not devote themselves to it ; and 
till they do so, and, far more than this, till the ])ublic thoroughly 
appre»ciate its importance, and master its essential principles, the art 
will certainly never i-ecover the ix)sition it occupied during the Middle 
Ages, still less that which it occ^upied in Eg}^t or in (Ireece. 

[The Renaissance in England. — In its general scoi)e this 
introductory chapter is, like all our author's writings, signalised by 
sound sense and clever generalisation • but there are portions of it 


wiiich, althoiijrli in their verv excess of earnestness thev cannot Imt 
set the reader think injj: to advantajre, must nowadays be accepted only 
subject to further explanation. One view of the way in which the 
Revived Classic of Italy was introduced into En<rland, with what 
measure of success it eventually obtained, is this. Kinjr Charles the 
Firet was on the throne when Ini«j:o Jones brought over the new style. 
His so-called Rancjuetint^ House at AVhitehall is familiar to everyone 
(Plate ir>r>) ; and it is well undei*stood that it was built as pirt of an 
intended tnvat palace for the soverei*rn (Plates !();> and 1(14). A more 
promising l)ep:innintr for the En«rlish Kenaissance could scaix*ely have 
been desi«rned. But i)olitic-s interfei*ed. The story of the conflict 
of principle Ixjtween the kinj^ and the jx.'oj)le need not be told here. 
The kinir and his ])rincii)les passed to extinction from one of the 
windows of that very Baucpietinjr House : and the <rraces incidental 
to monarchy »j:ave place to the trrim jnu'itanismof a fanat ical denuK'racy, 
with which such a thin^ as Architectural Art could find no favour at all. 
Time wore on dismally enoujrh ; and when at lenjrth the amenities of 
life came to the front jjpiin under the jejris of a new monarchy — bad as 
it was — it need scarcely be said that the sup]>ly of architectural skill iu 
a country so isolated from the rest of Eurojx.' was veiy limited indeed, 
even if the demand bad not been ecjually small. But a in'eater demand 
unexjKM'ttMlly arose : liondon was to a larire extent suddenly destroyed 
bv tiiv. The cathedral and a crowd of other ancient cburrhc-s were in 
ruins. Who was to rebuild them ? The citizens speedily rebuilt their 
warehouses and dwellin<rs : and fortunatelv thev saw their wav to find 
the nionev for new churches and a new cathedral : but what about 
archite<-ts r It is very nmch to the credit of the national sense of ])ride 
m the ])roprieti<'** that jrood art seems to have l>een insisted u]K)n by 
those who were able to s])eak for the ])e(>ple at hum*. But it is (juite 
(rlear that there were no pnfessional architects to be liad of such 
standing and re]mtation as to chum the public contident^e : and an 
amateur came forward. This was Dr. Wren, a scientific scholar of 
some distinction, who — str.anirely enouirh — was ]K)ssi»ssed of a most 
ivmarkable aptitude for architectural desiirn, which for many yeai's 
he had made a hobby. Through the advantages of bis scientiti(^ and 
social coimection (he was the nej)hew of an unconcjuerable old bisho]) 
who nad withstood the Puritan authorities with unexamj)led vigour, 
and was now at last triumphant), combined with his artistic knowledge 
and mechani(-al skill, he su(M*eeded, as everyone knows, in so s]K-edily 
and so successfully c(nnmanding recognition as a ])racti(^al an*hite(.% 
that (as our author trulv savs), " no buildinir of imiMn-tance was 
erected during the last fortv veai*s of the se\enteenth centurv of which 
he was not the architect.'' The results of his laboui*s are still amongst 
the most cherished exam])les of English building : men of gi'eat ability 
followed liim ; an<l this is the storv of the advent of Renaissiincc 


architecture in England. To what extent and in what particular 
manner this very j^eculiar process of origination affected at the time, 
or still affects, the artistic merits of modem English architecture as 
a whole, is one of the most interesting problems of historical criti- 
cism. That Wren must have been endowed by nature with artistic 
architectural genius of an unusually high order seems to be certain ; 
for the graceful proportions of his designs are acknowledged by all 
masters of the art ; but how far his want of original training may 
have been responsible for the establishment, by the aid of his scien- 
tific ingenuity, of that practice of counterfeit construction, so very 
notable in St. Paul's, which has ever since been the bane of our 
national architecture, is a question which it is difficult to evade. 

It seems to be our author's opinion that in the Middle Ages 
every ecclesiastic of any position was instructed in Arcliitecture, and 
that many laymen of rank took almost an equal interest in it. He 
also api)ears to suggest that since the age of Elizabeth the ])ractice 
of the art has fallen into the inferior hands of mere craftsmen, who 
follow it ^*as a trade or profession, for the sake of its pecuniary 
emoluments/' to the degradation of its dignity. Hero tlie most in- 
telligent and experienced class of his readers will certainly nut be 
able to agree with him. It is not possible that the design of the 
great ^lediieval cathedrals, or their construction, could in any 
degree have been the handiwork of mere theological dignitaries — 
who had quite enough to do, then as now, to carry on tlieir own 
professional duties and to further their own advancement — although 
no doubt the practical architect may have frequently been found in 
the cloister. Neither is there anv evidence to show that the ama- 
teur in the Middle Ages was any more heli)ful in the architect's 
practical work than hu is in our own day. The artistic design of a 
building is, and always has been, an intellectual operation of such 
a high character that nothing short of special training can by 
any means achieve success ; and this indisputable fact furnishes 
the nf.ison (Vetre, not for the architectural profession alone, but for 
the whole group of the professions which surround it. The condi- 
tion of culture must be low indeed in these davs wherever the 


person who is '^ his own architect " has not a very great fool for 
his client. — Ed.] 



Elizabeth 1&58. James 1 1G03. 

To begin this chapter, as we have bejnm all previous ones, by tivating 
of Ecclesiastical Architecturc first, would Ini ])lungiu<; too much in 
nmlias res, inasmucli jis in England no chui-ch was ei'ected of the 
smallest pretension to architectural design l)etween the Refonnation 
and the Oixiiit Fii^* of London in KIGT), with the solitaiy exce])tion of 
the small church in Covent Garden eixxjted hv liiigo Jones in 1()31. 
The fact is, that the Catholics of the Middle Agos had left us an 
inheritance of churches moR* than doublv sufficient for the wants of 
the Reformed conmnmities which succeeded them : and it is onlv now, 
when the demand for chuix.-h aa^onnnodation has ovortakoii the 
supply, that we should l)e glad if many of those which, in Elizabeth's 
time, were deserted and left to fall to ruin, could be ivajjju'ojn'iated to 
their original pui'poses. In the earlier \M\vt of the Renaissance ix'riod 
this was so entin;lv the case, that but for the Fiix^ of London, in l(\Cti}. 
wu should l>e obliged to wait till some time in the eighteenth century 
before we could find any chuix^hes worthy of notice in an aivhitectuml 

[The Dignity of Ecclksiastical Art. — The i-eason why in all 
Architectural history the leading i)osition has to Ix) iissigned to Religious 
Alt, ought to l)e appi-eciated as a ix>int of criticism. AVliat the world 
may come to when a gi-eat many niorc generations of scientific tliinkei*s 
have liad their way with it, is a (piestion not to l)e answeivd : and how 
far human nature exhibits stivngth or weakness in matters of its senti- 
mental l)eliefs or cji"emonial oliseiTances need not Ini discussed : but the 
fact certanily is that up to the present date no nation of any importance 
or any ajjproximation to culture has ever existed without manifesting 
that sjX'cial I'evei'ence for ideas of the divine, of whatever order, which 
leiids to the employment of momimentfd building in the form of temples 
of worehi]). In other woixls, the construction of ivligious edifices has 
invariably claimed primary attention, and this from the earliest U»Lrin- 
nings down to the latest develoimients of human enteq^rise. The fact is 
perhaps the more rcmarkable when it is considered that sucrh sti-uctui-es 
have always been devoid of utilitarian ser\'ice ; but it is this ]X'rfec:t 


independence of ordinary puiposes which so much accentuates the 
monumental principle. The temple is not in any way a house for 
humanity ; it is a shrine for divinity. The most powerful conqueror, 
the most arbitmiy govenior, the most wealthy and the most proud, all 
enter it in awe. It is the House of Deity ; and, even if the Priest be 
disavowed, the Deity I'emains. The church, therefore, claims everywhere 
to be regarded as a monument, and not a house. It follows that Art 
shall be specially employed to render more* monumental, most monu- 
mental according to circumstances, an edifice of this chai*acter ; and 
consecrated building brin|.cs with it consgcmted Art. In our own some- 
what prosaic times all this re^mains trae ; and even in the brand new 
cities of Ame! ica the brand new churches are still the local monuments. 
The Religious Art of modern as of ancient communities is necessaiily 
therefore a thing apart from Secular Ai*t, and standing on higher ground. 
Amongst other considerations, it is on tliis basis that the Gothic Revival 
was able to take such a firm hold u]X)n the pul)lic mind in England with 
reference to ecclesiastical work, while it so entirely failed in secular. 
There is no rule, however, without its exceptions, and there have been 
certain religious sects with whom, as an article of faith, it has been 
held that all religious art is a snare. This attitude is of coui-se a mere 
reaction from the otherwise univei'Siil custom, and it has never accjuired 
any serious significance ; the instincts of humanity have Ixjen against it. 
It is to be particularly remarked at the pi'esent day that what used to be 
called the " Meeting-houses " of the Puritan bodies in England are in 
almost all cases Ix'ing designed and more or less embellished on the same 
model as the churches. Even tlie woi'ship[)ei's whose boast it is almost 
fanaticallv to denounce the insignia of the Aires of Faith can bow their 
heads in uninquiring reverence l>efore the same symbols of suixiretition 
when these are only the iuxjepted ornaments of a temple of their 
own. — Ed.] 

Though the examples of Secular Art are infinitely more numerous and 
important in this early period, it is extremely difficult to fix a date when 
Classical details or Classical feelings firet began to ju'evail. It certainly 
was not in the early yeai*s of Elizal)eth's reign, though she ascended the 
throne in 1558, only six yeiu-s Ixifore Michael Angelo's deiith. Leicesttjr's 
buildings at Kenilworth, and her own at AVindsor — wherever, in fiKit, 
English arcliitCHJts were employed — show signs of deviation from the 
purer Gothic tj'pes, but nothing to indicate the direction in which Art 
was tending ; and it Ls probable that, after all, the fii*st introduction 
of the style is really to be ascril>ed to two foreignei's. One of these, 
Giovanni di Padua, it is said, was employed at Longleat and Holniby, 
and seems to have l)een induced to visit this countiy by Henry VIII., 
though whether as an architect or in any other capicity is not quite 
clear. The other, Theodore Have or Havcnius of Cleves, wiis the 
architect of Caius College, Cambridge, ere'cted between the yeai-s 15G5 


and lf>74, wlibh is owrUiiulv thu iiihsi (.■imijilutt: s]n.-ciT[ifii ■•( ri^issical 
Alt which wus ut that tiint; to Itc ei^-n in En^'luinl. 

Tht) buHdiugs of Uw Collcgt-- itself htk jrcni' rally in EliiiiilK.iliiUMiciiiiio, 
with only the very siimllyst jKKsilili; taint nf Cliissiniliiy ; Imi iliv pito- 
ways aa' iidonitd with Classiwil dutjiila to an t-xtfiit nvy hoiimuiI in lliut 
ago, Thu in'iiicipol and most Ixsiiitiful is tlie 'iatL- of lli)nuui-. (•^■(.■tt'd 
in l/'iT:^, and is one of the most jiloasiiig as wull nif. nw <>! iW- mo»l 
advanc^ni sjKX.'imwis of the early ReriiiissaiKT' in England. Aliliinij:h it« 
aivh is sHglitly pointed, and the dutailn far fiMni lining ]iin\-, ilir i.'i'nuiiil 
dtwign is vei-y perfect. Owing to its gi^eater hi-ight and varirty cif out- 
line, it giiiui» much moiv jiIeiisiTigly with modiTTi luiildiiigs than many 
of the more purely C'laswical Triunijilial aiTlies which sincf thai time 
have adonictl most of the capital citief of EuroiK'. Tlieiv aiv simif oilier 
jiarts of the College, also, which show details of the Siinie i-lass, tliongh 
not 80 complete in style as this. 

There are besides this se^'eml veiT jileusini: sjni-inieiis of neiiaJssnTica 
Art at Cambridge, and some also at <.).\fi)iil — iliongh nioiv at ihe I'liniier, 
which seems at that [leriod to liavc hud an aLxession of jaxtsjH^^rJiy which 

Chap. L 



enabled her to overtake iii a [rreat degree her iicher and mort \iiieral»lL 
nval Tlie C liajitl espw inlh tl e west front of St PcUi k College m one 
of tlie best spe(inicus of tin, art at CamliiuUL Imt ]icrhii))s Ihe most 
pletistii^ 13 the (juadnm^le of Claa Colkjt which e\hilnts tin, English 
DomcHtic \nhit«tiirL of that age with more jmnt^ and gmtt than 
alnio:>t any otliei examjile that uan Ite mined The oldci iMiilditip's seem 
to lunL litin buiiit liinvn in 1 )i > hut no BtLjts nert tnkeii to ixlmild 
them tdl mort, thiin n (entnn iifttrwaixls, m II 'ix nhui Chi. ]itmut 
quadrangle wan coniniLnii-il It is iiittmallj 1 >(» ft long b\ m ft 
broad Tlioiuh siioii^h nmked horizontal lines piwail eitnwhtit tht 
lertical mode of attLiitniii m !■* also invstneil, and iHjth iiR fonnd hire 
in e\attli tln)SL ju ijwitions whuh indRili. tin. intt.rioi nmingtmtnts 
and th(. size and dwun- 
tion of th(. iviiulows an, 
also lu irooil t i*tt, an ! iii 
perfect keeping wiih the 
dt-stinitioiiof the I Till i ri^ 

iiiinhu I k i-iii^' i.\ 
nmple Lstolx. foiiii 1 mthe 
north and south fi iits if 
Jitullt s CiHtrt in TriJiiH 
College, which «ui. ntail) 
(.■ompkted nhui tlitii 
founder dR'<l, in II 1 i 
They ai-L piiinlij sliown 
Hi Woodcut \o I'^l, 
funher on Though the 
upper storexs uii ii<it si 
laned oi so effextiveh 
broken as thohe of Clare 
the arcade lieloH ii a \en 
pleasing fe-atuie, liitlj 
found in English, though s 
of an eai-liei iige 

At Oxford the most admiivd exiniple of this age is the daicUii-fiont 
of St John's College, a«enlieil lo Inigo Tones It was toniiueiiLeil in 
Ib^l, and finiHhe-d in foni mi's but bo es.seiitialh (rothic iiix ill its 
details, that it reijnii-cs e-areful v,mlui\ and no Htnall knowledge of -ule 
to feel assured that it doesi not Ixloiig to the Tudor period I he fioiit 
of the building, howe\er, towawls the toutnaid tells the ston of it- ige 
niueh more clearlj, lieing blighth niou id\ iiued than the Imildings iii 
Neville's Court,, just illuled to Its detiils iie -iniiUr, 
though on a siu.dler scde, to those of the Hospiud it 'Miliii (^\ oc kiit 
No 75), the Castle at loledo, tnd the hou^e of \4ues Niiel lit Oileins 
(Woodcut No iii), though only introduced into Englind a C'erituiy 

) couinim in ItUmi and Spniish huildnigs 



aft«r tliev hiid btxn UBed on the cuntmeiit of Europe, and then almost 
furtivtiy, beiiift confined to courtyards and iuteriorg, wliile the exterior 
of the litiilding was asBimilat«d to the older and more truly Euglish 
forms of Art. 

A moi-e celebrated example Ib the Gateivuy of the Schools at Oriord, 
desi^cned by an architect of the name of Thomas Holt, and erected about 
Hil2, The whole of the rest of the quadi'angle — the erection of which 
itn due to the munificence of Sir Thomas Bodley — is of the debased Gothic 


lit- Plui of LooElnt HuuR.i From BriHon.i 

uf the- ajre ; ^ but, as at St. John's, an exiimple uf the Classical taste then 
comin}: into vi^^iie is inlixKluix^l internally. The jwitnl is in consojnence 
decorateil with the ft\'e Ordere piled one o\er tlie othei' in the ustrnl 
nuwx'ssion, acconliiiK to the Vitruvian pi-eccpt : the lowest being Tuscan, 
the nest I)ori<', over that wnnes the Ionic Oi-der, and tlieii the Corinthian. 
The Coni}>osite finishes this ynirt of the desi<r[i, l>ut the whole is crowned 
by (ii)thie pinnacles, and oilier relics of the exi)ii'iii}r style. Besides 
these, the whole desijtn is mixed up with detiiils of the utmost impurity 
Hud grotesijueiiess, making! u]) a whole muw to lie admired for its 

' The piirts nhiidcil liglit are reii'iit i Grent llritiiin.' 5 toU. 4Ui. Loudom 1827. 
ndilitiona or iilt^nition^. , ' The work seeau lo liarc extended 

: ■Tim Art'liiiei-tuml Anliquities of . fium liJIU tn I'JIU. 

Chap. I. 



pictorestiuenesB and curiosity tlian for any beauty it possessi.'S either in 
design or detail. 

Longleat, built between the years l.'iGT and ITiTO, is one of thckifieat 
as well as one of the most Iwaiitiful palaces iu ETijrland of that day. 
As before mentioned, the original design was proliaMy due to John of 
Padua, whieh would account for tlie far ga-ater purity that pervades 
its Classical details than is to 1>c found in llie Colleges just inentioued, 
or in most of the buildings of this age. The accounts of the buildinff, 

however, which ai-c still iinwrved at Longleat, show thiii 
Smithson, who afterwai-ds built AVullaton. was ein]ihiye(l i 
master niasoii " during the whole time it was in ninr'si' of 
Its front measures 220 ft., its flanks 1(U, sotluit it mvei's about 
gromid as the Farnesc I'alace ut Rome, though both in heiu'l 
other dimensicnis it is veiy much inferior. It conaisls iif thiv 
each ornamented with an Order, — i-[idi of wliich taiK'rs ufnuin 
the lowest to tbe summit in a very iiltiisinir niiinnur, tin' di-taih 
out being elegant, though not rigiilly roiTwt. The nio«t 
part of the design is the modi; in which tlic fai;inie!! aiv bi 


J stor(.■y^, 
nlly from 

■„k,:1l !.)• 



tliL' pitijoctioiiB — two Ht each end of the principal facade, and three on 
each of the kitenil fiices. This, with the windows l»ing larpe and 
mtillioned, git'i-s to the whole h cheei-ful, hnliiUilile look, cmiuently 
suitable to ii country R-sidence of an Eufrliah nobleman, though these 
.features <leprive it of that air of moiiunienta! jrraiideur wliich the 
Italian town palacca jxiaaees. We meet also in this design a peculiaiitj 
which distinguishes almost all English Jumscs from those of Itjily 
or France. It is, that the conit — where there is one — is a Iwick 
conrt. The entrance is atwaj-a in the principal external facade, and 
all the princiiml windows of the living-i-ooms look outwai-ds towuitls 


the coinitiT— never into the cotirtj-ard. Genenilly an English house 
is a sipiaixs block, without any court in the c-entre : and when then' niv 
wings, they niv kept as suMued and as much in the background as 
poBsiMc. The Italian eoriile is eiUiivly unknown, and the French 
l>asse-c(nirt is only occasionally introduced, and then hy some iioiijeman 
who has resiilcii abniad. and leanit to adiniiv foreign fashions. 

From Longlwit the next ste]t Is to Wollaton, which was commenced 
in the year after the otJier wjls finished, while, as we learn from his 
ejiitaph in AVoIlaton chun-h, the same Smithson who waa master 
mason to the former had risen to (be rank of areliituct to this new 


building.^ In it we find the Ordi^ra used to al)out the same extent, 
and, a& far as words could descrilKi them, in about the same manner 
as at Lonjrleat ; but when we compare the two designs, instead 
of the almost Italian jmrity of the firet, we find a rich Gothic 
feeling pervading the latter, and running occasionally into excesses 
bordering on the grotescjue. The gnaxt hall, which rises out of the 
centrc of the whole, and is plain in outline and Gothic in detail, 
over}X)wers the lower pirt of the design l)y its mass, and detracts 
very mnch from the beauty of the whole ; but, with this exception, 
the lower part of the design Ls probably the hai)piest conception of 
its age in this countiy ; and if re}Xiated with the purity of detail we 
could now apply to it, would make a singularly i)leasing t>^)e of the 
residence of an EnglLsh nobleman. The rich mode in which the 
Ordei's are now used in Paris, for instance (Woodcut Xo. 147), shows 
how easily thev could Ixi made to acx-onl with snch a design as this, 
without any incongruity ; and evun (Jrecian purity of detail would 
accord j)erfectly with such an outline and such a use of the Orders. 
The age and ass(K'i iLions attached to such a six*cimen as this ai*e too 
apt to lead us into tht- belief that the incorrectness of the details adds 
to the pictnresjjueness of the effect, instead of the fact being exactly the 
reverse. Till tried, however, it will l>e ditticult to convince j)eo])le that 
such is the case : and it may he feared that the attcni])t would involve 
loo much oriirinalitv for the i)i*esent a<j:e. 

Longford C^istle was again connnenced just as AVollaton was finished, 
or in 1501 : and, if anything, shows a further reaction towards the older 
style. It is a triangular building, with three great round towei^ at the 
angles, and the Doric pillai-s which adorn the ]K)r<'h su])]K)rt five pointed 
arches : and though those abose are circular, the whole is verv unlike 
anything that may l)e called Classic, or which was being erected at the 
same period on the Continent. 

Hardwicke Hall in Derhvshire, ertrted l)etween the veare 1092 and 
1597, and therefore inunediately succeeding Wollaton, is another very 
favoural)le sixxdmen of this style : but, though erected later, has even 
less of Classical detail or feeling than its predecessor. In fact, it has 
more affinity with those parts of Iladdon Hall which ai>i)roach it in 
date, but which, having l)een added to building of the true Gotliic age, 
have Ijeen to some extent assimilated to the older style, thus producing a 
picturesqueness of effect seldom i*eached even in this age. 

Temple Newsam, in Yorkshire, built in 1012, hardly shows a tmce 
of the Italian features which twenty or thirty yeai's earlier seemed as 
if they would entiR'ly obliterate the details and feelings of Gothic 
Art. Even Audley Inn, or End, commenced, in 1010, by the Earl of 
Suffolk, is remarkably hvQ from Italian feeling, though designed by 

* 'History of Longleat,' by the Rev. Canon JackBOu. Devize.s, lofjS. 


a foreign architect of the name of Jansen. When complete, it must 
have been one of the largest and most splendid mansions of that age ; 
and even now there is an air of palatial grandeur al)out the pirt that 
remains, that few of the houses of that age possess. WTiat little of 
Italianism is to be fomid in it is confined to porches and cloisters ; 
there is no ** Order " attached to the main buildings, and the windows 
are, throughout the large s([uare mullioued openings, without dressings, 
so characteristic of the style. 

Besides these therc is a large class of mansions which time has 
sanctified and sanctioned, though they certainly arc not teiutiful, 
either frcm their details or from any grouping of their parts. Among 
the best known of these may be quoted Hatfield House, built in IGll ; 
Holland House, in 1007 ; Charlton, in Wiltshirc ; Burleigh, built in 
1577; West wood, in 1590; Bolsover, in 1G13 ; and many othei"s of 
morc' or less note and magnificence : all picturescjue, generally well 
an'anged for convenience, and always having an air of appropriateness 
as the residence of a nobleman in the country — characteristics which 
make us overl(M)k their defec^ts of detjiil ; and, however tasteless many 
may have looked when new, it is imjiossible now to rcason against the 
kindly infiurnces which time has l)est()wed u]K)n them. 

This class of buildings can hardly l>e called Classic, or even 
Renaissance, in the same sense that we apply that term to continental 
buildings. It is only here and there that we arc rcniindefl, 1)V a 
misshaiKin pilaster or ill-designed arc*adc, of a foreign influence beinu: -t 
work ; and these arc so intenningled with mullioned windows and 
IX)inted gables, that the buildings might with etpial ])r()priety Ik- ctilleil 
(lOthic, the fact l)eing that therc' is no term really applicable to 
them but the verv homd, though very characteristic, name of .Jacol>ean. 
As designs, therc* is rcally nothing to admirc' in them. They miss 
etjually the thoughtful propriety of the (iothic and the simple purity 
of the Classic styles, with no prc'tensions to the elegance of either. 
All they (;an claim is a certain amount of i)ictures(iue appropriateness, 
but the former (piality is far more due to the centuries that have 
j)as8ed away since they werc* ere(;ted than to any skill or taste on the 
put of the original diwigner. 

Though late in date, Ileriot's Hos])ital in Edinbiu'gh is so essen- 
tiallv in the Tnmsitional stvle that it nuist 1m' classified with those 
buildings which werc erected bcforc the rcform introduced by Inigo 
Jones. It was connnenired in 1(*.2H, and i)racticallY com pleteil from the 
designs and under tlic sniMTintcndence of local architects bv KKlo. 
Though later than the S<*hools at Oxford, the cha]K.'l and otlier jMirts not 
only rc*tain the niullions ami foliation of the (iothic ]>eriod, but their 
heads are actnallv filled witli tracerv, which had lonjj: Ijcen al>andoned 
genendly ; but these featurc'S arc mixed with Classical details treate<:l 
in the Jacol)ean form, with a gi*otes<|UenesS which the age has taught 

Cbap. I 



11B to tolerate, but whicli have not in themselves any beauty or any 
sppropriateuesa which can render them worthy cither of admii^tion or 
of imitation. 

Exiemally, great character ia given to this building by the four 
eqnare tower-like masses that adoni the anfrlus ; and l>etween these, in 
That may be called the curtains, the windows an." disjxwed without 

moch attention to regularity either i[i dcsijrn or iiosiiiou, the orna- 
ments of each window iMiing dilTcifnt. tlumgli all helon^'iiif; to a cliiss 
which is almost [lecnliar t« Scotland, Generally iln' windows iire 
adorned with a pilaster on each side, sujiporting a riclily-in'iianienttil 
entablature: b'.it aljovo that, insi«id of the usual stniisri it-lined or 
cnrved pediment used by tliu Komanst, and copiofl from them by the 

' 'Batonial aoi Ecdeaiiu 

J AiitiiiviitieaofScollaua,'- 



ItaliunB, the Suutoh oiniiluvt'd u rich coniplicatod piece of liJiiKl tim-ery, 
if it may be bo called. As used by them, the effect is tuit uhvaTs 
pleasing ; the design being freiiuently iingniceftil, niu\ the oniainenta 
groteeqae ; but it is very iiuustionable whether in prineiiilL- it is not 
a more legitimate 
mode of ndoniiiig a 
window-head than 
the one wc bo gene- 
rally make use of. 
It admits, at all 
events, of the most 
ii>linite variety of 
detail. ^uie of 
those iiL fila^w 
College, or in Regent 
MnrruyV house in 
the Caiiongate, are as elegant as any ; hut there is scan-ely ii iScotch 
house of the early iiart of the se^'enteentli ceiitnrj' which has not 
specimens to contribute. The style of the'se oruanieTita is singularly 
characturistic of the age. They sliow that Icne for (jiiirks and iiuibblea 
which pen^ades the literatuiv of the day, but they sliow alsio that desire 
for eheiipiiess which, nillier thiiii 'H.'aHty, 
tt-as the aim of the biiihk'iN. Kvery 
urL'hitcct knows how ililliculi it is to 
design, and how much more diHicult it is 
to cnt, all the hollow unci curved niould- 
F^'^^ L-'I^Vj "''^ which ehanieterise every shaft and 

'UrX^ I'Nth^/'l' *'™'^' '"""'"" '" '^'^'^ I'""-' '■'"'■'li*^ sly'*-'. 

, ti/fi^W-M II \\l / I and how much its lieaiity de)>eiids on 

their delicacy and variety, lleiv, how- 
ever, it is meri'ly a sijiuir' sinking, such 
aa might lie cut out of desit with a saw ; 
and though it dot* jiriMbice a considerable 
effect at small cost, and in consisleiit with 
all the mouldings and nmlliiiiis of thestyle, 
it will not luiir examination. cVcn when 
enriched and embused, as ii somethiies 
is, in jiilastei'H and other foiciuvs. Like 
all the other details of tla> age, they 
never ivm-h the elegance ()r the Classical, 
and are hinneasurahly inferior to those 
of the Gothic style which jm-ci-iied it. 

Taking it, alto.Lfther, the English have iKThajis some misi.n to Iks 
proud of their Transitional style. It has not either the gi-anduur of 
the It«lian, the pictuR-S'jueness of the Fi-eneh, nor the lichncss of 



lllnalcr Oniuncut! 


detail which chanu^terised the corresponding style in Spain ; but it is 
original and appropriate, and, if it had been carried to a legitimate 
Lssne, might have resulted in something ver}' l>eautiful. Long before, 
however, arriving at that stage, it was entirely superseded by the 
importation of the newly-jKjrfected Italian style, which in the seven- 
teenth centuiy had }K*r\'aded all European nations. 

Durhig the eighty years that ela})sed from the death of HeniT VIIL 
to the accession of Charles I., the Transition stvle left its trac>es in 
ever}' comer of England, in the mansions of the nolnlity and gentry, 
and in the colleges and grammar-schools whi(;h were erected out of 
the confiscated funds of the monasteries ; but, unfortunatelv for the 
dignity of this style, not one church, nor one really important public 
building or regal pilace, was erected during the period which might 
have tended to ixideem it from the utilitarianism into whi(jh it was 
sinking. The givat clianicrteristic of the eiKX'h was that during its 
(continuance Architecture ceased to l)e a natural form of expivssion, or 
the oc^cuiKition of cultivated intellects, and pissed into the state of 
being niurfly the stock-in-tnide of ])rofessi()nal exj)erts. Whenever 
this is so, it is in vain to look either for progress in a right dia^ction, 
or for that majesty and truthfulness which distinguished the earlier 
forms of the Art. 




Charles I less 

Commonwealth 1649 

Charles II 1660 

Jam<>s II 1685 

William and Mary 1689 

Anne 1702 

Inigo Jones. ^ 

Very little is known of the early youth of Inigo Jones. What we do 
know, however, is, that though horn of iK>or |mix?nt8, he early showed 
80 much taste for the Fine Arts, and such unusual ahility, as to induce 
some noble j>atrons to send him to Italy in order that he might study 
them in the country which was then pre-eminent for their cultivation 
beyond any other in Euroixi. We further know that his success was 
such as to induce Christian, King of Denmark, to invite him as Court 
architect to Coixinhagen ; and that he enjoyed such favour with that 
king's sister, the wife of our James I., that he awonipanied her to 
England, and was here inmiediately apjxjinted her architect, and 
became Insjiector-Genenil of the Royal Buildings. 

It gives a very exalted notion of the love which Inigo Jones had 
towards these arts, that he should, in 1612, — on the death of Prince 
Henry, to whose service he was specially attiiched, — have returned to 
Italy ; abandoning for a time liis practice at Court, and tlie emolu- 
ments which must then have been accruing to him, in order that he 
might, at the age of forty, complete his studies, and thoroughly master 
the principles which guided the great Italian arcliitects in the designs 
which to his mind were the greatest and most perfect of all architec- 
tural productions. 

On his return he produced his design for Whitehall, on which his 
fame as an architect nmst always principally be based ; for, although 
it never was carried out, the BaiKiueting House, which was completed 
between the years IfilO and 1021, shows that it was not merely an 
architectural dream, but a scheme which might, in gretit part at least, 
have lK*en completed, had it not been for the troubles pi"«^eding the 
Revolution. Its greatest error was that it was conceived on a scale 
as far Ixjvond the means as it was bevond the wants of the monarch 

Born 1572; died 1652. 

Chap. II. 



for whom it was desi<riie(l. This was so much felt that a new design 
had to be irtXiiJaivd and sabniitted to the King, in 1089, which 
showcxl tlie ^mlace ivdnced, not only in scale, but intended to he 
canied out with so nmch jilainness, and altogether in so inferior a 
maimer, that it is difficult to U'lieve that it is bv the Siune hand as 
tlie former design. This last projKisal is that ])nblished by (^amplxill 
in the ' Vitruvins Britanni(nis : ' the former is that to which Kent 
devoted the l)eautiful volume so well known to amateui's. As l)oth 
conUiin, as a matter of conise, the one fragment which has Ijeen 
erected, it is only fair, in siK.-aking of the architect's design, to refer to 

//^ 1 1 1 I ■ ■ KW yit w ■ ■ ■ r 


\\'.\ Ilou«r. 


•1 H 


nil ■ 

:N - . . 

i m 


-t I » « ■ ■ 1 ■ a ■ • I 1 1 a. M »1 1 


BI<»ck Plrtti of Iiiin" .r<.n«f's iVsitrn for tho PaLuo at Wljit--lull. 

the one which hv. concciviMl in the vigour of his taltMits and wl'.cn 
fresh from his Italian studies : and not thr iniiM)verishi'(l nuiki'sliift 
which the troubles of th<' times foreed him to |)ro|)ose in order to meet 
the altered cinnnnstanetfs of his emplvA'ei's. 

.Vs originally clesigned it. was |)i'o])osed thiit the pulace >hould have 
a fa9ade facing the river, S71 ft. in extent, an<l a con*es[»ondinu: one 
facing tin; Park, of the sanu'. dimensions. These were lo lu- joined by 
a grand facade facin;: Charing (^-oss, 11. ^^ ft. from .inLile to an.iile, 
with a similar one facimr WesI minster. The li'reJit e<»ni-i of the palace, 
iMH ft. wide bv twice that number of fe«.'t in leiiirtli, occupied the 
position of the street fl2o ft. wide) now existing between the banquet- 
ing House and the Horse (Inards. Betw«'en this and the river theiv 



were three square courts, and on the side towards the Park a circular 
court in the centre, with two square ones on either liand. The greater 
part of the building was intended to be thrce storeys in height, each 
storey measuring, on an average, about iK) ft., and the whole block, with 
podium and balustrade, about 100 ft. The rest, like the Banqueting 
House, was to have Ikkju of two storeys, and 78 ft. high. 

Had such a palace been executed, it would have been by far the 
most magnificent erected in Europe, either Ixjfore or since. It would 
have l)een as large as Vei'sailles, and much larger than the Iiou\Te or 
Tuileries, taken sei>aiiitely ; and neither the Escurial nor the Caserta 
could have comptired with it. The river fayade of the Xew Houses of 
Parliament is nearly identical in extent with that projwsed by Jones 
for the river front of his palace ; except that its proportions are 
destroyed by being much less in height ; while the smallness of the 
parts and details contrast painfully with the grandeur of Jones's design. 
If the new Parliament Houses were continued westward, so as to 
include the Abl)ey towel's in their western fayade, their extent would 
be nearlv the same, and thus some idea mav be formed of the scale on 
which Whitehall was designed. 

It was not, however, in dimensions, so nmch as in beauty of design 
that this ]>roi)osid surpassed other Euro])ean pilaces. The only building 
to com]Kire with its internal courts is that of the Louvre ; but that is 
less in height and dimensions, and has not the simple gnmdeur wliich 
chanicterises this design; and it waiUs, too, tlie variety which is pro- 
duced i>y the different heiglits of tlie parts — in the great court esj^e- 
cially — and the richness of effect ]jr()(hu'ed by the change of the design 
in the various l>locks. Externally, AVliitehall would have suii)assed 
the Louvi'f, Vei'sailles, and all other ] palaces, by the happy manner in 
which the anirles are acx;entuated, bv the boldness of the centre masses 
in each fa(;ade, and by the play of light and shade, and the variety of 
sky-line, which Ls obtained without evur inteifering with the simplicity 
of the desijjrn or the harmony of the whole. 

One of the most original parts of the design was the circular court, 
210 ft. in diameter. It was to have* been adorned on the lower storey 
with caiyatid figures of men, doing duty for the shafts of Doric 
columns, and above them a similar range of female statues, bearing on 
their hetids Corinthian cai)itiils, to sup]M)rt in like manner a broken 
entablature. It need hardly be said that the design would have been 
better if the capitals had been omitted, and they had been treiited 
merely as statues ; but either way the effect would have been very 
rich ; and the circular form of the court, with the dimensions givun, 
would have been most ])leasing. 

Perhaps the part of the design most ojk'ii to criticism aix^ the little 
cuppohni which crown the central blocks in each fayade. They cer- 
tainly are not worthy of their situation ; but they might easily have 



been improved, and in perspective Uiey would not h«ve iookctl so iii- 
Bignificaiit as they do in elevation. 

One other defeat runminB to be pointed nut ; and it is oiiu thut 
practit^lly would either liave prevented the jwlut* \wii\ii huik, or 
woidd liKve iWjuired iilterRtion ininiedintfly iifterwiirds. It is the 
Bmidlneea of the entranLts to the Great Court ; only one an-linay, IS ft. 
wide, Iwiiig providiil foi' tliat jnirpoBe. Tlie palace must liii\e lieen 
cut off fiinn cither the river or the park hy n jmhlic romlwiiy. or all 
the tniflic Iwtwecn London nnd Westminster nuist have pasRii thnmfjh 
this court. According to the design, the thoroHfihfmv was tn h'lve 
been outelile ; hut even then so small an entrance is utterly nnwonhy 
of so great a pidace. There would, of course, have lH.t'n some ilifli- 
culty in interrnjitiiig the principal suite of njiartnients hy raising an 
archway so as to cut thcni ; hnt, by whatever nie;nis it was dune, ft 

grander entrance to the palace was itidisiKsnsalJe, even irres}K.'<.'live of 
the thmiigh traffic ; and it is one of tlie defects of this dwign, as of 
the new hnUdiiigs of the Tuileries, that no jwrtal worthy nf iln' judace 
is provided iiiiywiiere. 

The Banqueting Honsc, as it now stands, is ccrtaiidy neitliei' woithy 
of the inordinate praise or tlie indiscriminate blame which lias been 
lavished on it. It is tnie that it is a solecism to make wlial is one 
ivom internally IcKik as if it were in two storeys on the t:xlerior ; but 
then it was only one of four similar hUx-ks. Tliat exactly op(>ositc was 
to have lK.-en a diapel witli a wide gjillery all ronnd, and (■oiiseijiiently 
reijniring two ranges of lights. The other two Hei'e ]i;irt of ibe gi'neral 
Bniu.'S of the jmlace, and consei|nently could not aifoiit to In.- .")7 ft. 
high internally, as this is. At prL-sent it looks stuck uji and nitlier 
meaijfrc iu its details ; but as jKirt of a curtain l>etwci.-n two higher 


and iiiui'u riclily-ornaitieiited blocks of building tbie would Imtc die- 
appeansl. Ite ittil dt;fcctB of dotiiil are the puli-iiiation of tlio lower 
friezt;, which is \'ery uiiplcasiiig, aiid the height of the lialiiatnide. 
But, on the other liaiid, the windows uk well jiroiiortioned and elegaut 
in oiiiunii-nt,— the voids and solids ai-e well bidunceil, and the amount 
of ornaineiil sufficient to jrive ui\ )i]i]it-opi'iate effect witliont Iwing over- 
done : iind, wliiit is ]X'rlui|is of as niudi importance as anything else, 
the whole is desif^ned on so larije a scale as to convey an idea of 
grandeur, sii^ins; a luiliitial elTeet irresjRX'tive of any merits of detail it 
may pos«;ss. 

Ill the erection of thf church of St. Paul's, Covent Garden, 
Jones hud prolwihly the fortune to niise tile first important Pro- 
testant ehuR'h now known to exist ; and as iie learn that his in- 
Btnietions were the 
Banie as thosi' ■,'ivun 
tu most arrhiui'ts 
in similar ciivnm- 
Btanws. \iz., to pixi- 
vide the frreatest 
possible amount of 
mtomiiKjdation at 
the ieaht jiossilile 
expense, he Is fairly 

eutitleil to claim a dep^ree of suucess rarely a<'comptiKlie<l hy his 

St. Paurrt church was appaivntly ecnunienced ahout the year Ifiitl, 
under the auspices of Francis Ihike of Bedford, us a chaiiel-of-ense to 
St. Man in's-in-t lie- Fields. Althonirh small in dimcrisioiis— oidy f.n ft. 
hy l.'i:^— and almost Iwrn-like in its sini]>Ii<'ily, no one can mistake 
its beiny: a chun-li, and it wouM lie extremely dilHcult, if jiossible, to 
(juote another in whii-li so trr.ind an effect is pnxliiced hy such simple 
means ; iis only really architoutunil features lieinn two \erj' simple 
plain piilai-s, formius a puctssed ])ortico in antis ; which— though 
Jones pnihahly did not know it — was one of the fa\-ouritc and most 
successful imentioiis of the Greeks. 

In this instance the effect ia considerably marivd hy the curious loc-al 
BUperstition tliat the alt-ar must lie towanls the east. Though tliis is not 
known in Italy and other inteiiseiy Catholic c-ountries, it is a favourite 
idea wiih Gnjrlish P,-otcstants, and many fine churches have heen 
spoiled in constM|Uence, Here it is particularly [winful, as the central 
door, lieing huilt u]i with stone, renders the portico unmeaninj; to a 
great extent, and gives a [iiiinful idea of falsehotHl to the whole 
desigu. But, Iwining this, the Biniplicity of the jwrtico, the holdncBs 
of tile projection of tiie eaves, and the genend liarmony and good tuste 
pen-adiiig the whole building, convey a veiy high idea of .fones's 



Book IV. 

talonte, and of his power of applying them to any design, however novel 
it might be. 

The repiira which Jones executed at St. Paul's Cathedral can 
scanx^ly Ix) (juot^id as examples of his genius or taste. It was hardly 
jKissible that any one should succeed in casing a Gothic nave with an 
lUilian exterior without such incongruity as should spoil both. His 
own tasU) and that of his age led liim to despise what was then con- 
sidered the barbarism of oiu* foi-efathers. A great deal was thought 
to 1)0 gained when it could be disguised and hidden out of sight ; 
but it would retiuire a gi-eater genius than the world has yet seen to 
accomplish this successfully, and we must not therefore feel suqn-ised 
if he failed in this instance. Considered, however, by itself, the 
porticx) which he added in front was one of the finest, if not the very 
liest, that ever was erected in England. It consisted of eight well 
proportioned Corinthian pillars in front, each 47 ft. high, with two 
scpiare ones on the angles, and was three pillars deep ; the whole well 
proiwrtioned and elegant in all its details, standing well on its step, 
and with no useless pediment to cnish it. On the whole, it may be 
considered the best example of its class in this countr}' befoi-e that 
of St. George's Hall, Liveri)ool, and shows what a thorough master of 
his art its designer was, even at that early j)eiiod. 

Perhaps the most successful of Jones's smaller designs is the one 

he furnished for the Duke of Devonshire's 
villa at Chiswick. It was avowedly sug- 
gested by that of his idol Palladio at 
Vicenza ; but he had too nnieh taste and 
originality to copy it liteniUy, as was 
done at Mereworth Hall, or to thrust two 
rooms into two of the porticoes, as was 
done at Foot's Cray. On the contrary, 
Jones improved the form of the dome, 
and he added only one portico, which, in 
fact, was necessary to suggest the design ; 
and he so modified the elevation of the 
three remaining sides as to make them 
elegant and ap])r()priate fa(^a(les for an 
English nobleman's villa. The disposi- 
tion of the interior is as elegant and 
dignified as that of the exterior, and, for 
its puqx)ses, as pleasing as any to l>e found anywhei*e. It may l)e 
objected that the introduction of the p)rtico is altogether a mistake ; 
''lat it trammels the whole design, and is of no use. Such, however, 

(not the opinion of either an;hitects or their employei*s in those 
B. All were hankering after classical ity, and a portico was the 
ure best known, and the one which most retidily suggested the ideal 

«o so 

167. Villa at Chiswick. From Kent. 


they were Beeking after. Ab it was ftftenvnrds used, in a frrcut iimiiy 
iiistjiiicea it was an absuiiiity wliich iiothins can exciist ; l>ut ikh 
us applied here to 
what was merely 
the suburban villa 
of a refined noble- 
man, and where, 
consequently, if 
anywhere, it ivas 
excusable to in- 
dulge in learned 
fancies, irresiH:<.-tive 
of their utilitarian 

In tliu fjigade 
which Jones de- 
siKiieii for M'iltori 
he oinittwl the Or- 
der altoftechei', and * '° °° ■ '^ ^ '' 

SOUfrht niel-oly to «*- El^ulon cf ViU. at Cl.i>«kV. rr™ Kent. 

attain the effwt liu 

desired by a pJeuKiufr projxjrtidn of the jKins amonji theiusulvo 
sufficient scale to ;rive diffriity to the mass ; and so stici'i'ssfu! was 
he tliat this desijin has l)cen rqiealed over and over a;niiu in the 
country sejits of English noblemen. There is little fa::lt to Im? fnnnd 
with the elevation, which Ls both ele^-ant and ap|iro]iriate, unless it 

i. and s 








is bcinji too plain for the purpcise. This is a defe<;t that miirhl easil; 
have l>een reraoveil by richer ili^-ssiiifrs mund tlie \viudi)«s, or b; 
panelling ; but these oniameiits were not then ennsLiienil micI 
eseential parts of a Classictil deBJgii as they ]mw siuc^ ln'conw 
and an architect of those da^'s, when called u]»oii to enrich suchj 


fayiule as this, could think of nothing Ixitter than adding a portico 
of from four to eight pillars, running tlirough two or more storeys, 
and ]>lastering on useless pilasters wherever pillare could not l)e put. 
No aix-'hitect was so fiXHi from these defect* as Jones, and nothing 
gives a liigher idea of his genius than to sec how he avoided the faults 
of his master Palladio, and only used the Orders accoixiiug to the 
dictates of his own good t^iste. 

It is too nuich the fashion at the present day to ascribe to Jones 
«veiT remarkable building erec^ted during the reigns of the first two 
Stuarts : and if he was guilty of many of these, we must place him in a 
lower rank than he is generally sup[K)8ed to l)e entitled to. The design 
of the river fa9ade of Gixienwich Hospital is almost always said to Ixi 
his, without a shadow of documentar}* evidence, merely, apimrently, 
because his son-in-law and pupil, Webb, superintended the execution 
of it ; but it is almost impossible to l)elicve that the an;hitect of 
Whitehall and Chiswick could have designed anything so clumsy in 
its details. It has great three-(|uarter columns running through two 
storeys, crowned by an ill-pro|>ortioned attic, and with great useless 
pediments shutting u]) the windows of the U])])er storey. From its 
size and iK)siti<)n, and the material of which it is built, and, more than 
this, from the extent to which it has afterwards been added to, the 
fayade of <lreenwich Hospital is a grand and imposing mass ; but it 
would l)e (litticult to iK)int out anywhere in Europe, even during the 
reign of Henri Qaati*e, any design that will less l)ear examination. 
The m(Kk'l adopted heiv seems to have l)een the fayade of St. Peter's 
at Rome, and it certainly has not l)een improved upon. 

Another design which is descril)ed to Jones, but which certainly 
belongs to his son-in-law, is that for Amesbury in Wiltshii"e, which, 
though considerably more elegant and tasteful than Greenwich, has 
faults he never would have committed. It is interesting, however, as 
one of the earliest examples of the tyjK* on which nine-tenths of the 
seats of English gentry were afterwanls erecrted ; almost all subse- 
quent houses consisting of a rusticated basement, which contains the 
dining and business ro(mis ; a bel etage, and a l)edroom storey, with 
attics in the roof. On the basement, and ninning through the two 
upi)er storeys, is the portico — always for ornament, never for use, and 
generally so badly applied as to l)e offensively obtnisive. In this in- 
stance there ai*e no upjKT windows under the portico, but those on 
eithei* side range so exactly with the entablature of the Order that we 
C4«inot help ])erceiving that theiv Ls a falsehfK»d about it contra it to 
all the principk^ of tnie Art. 

Some of the Euirlish countrv seals built after AmeslnuT are l>etter 
in design — manv verv nmch woi-se — but nearly all follow its general 

features, thus differiuir essentially from those of either Italy or France. 

• • • 

Generally, thev are cubical bl(x;ks without courtyards — seven, nine, or 


tlc^-en wiritldwB on ■.■nc!i 

silk, iiironliu^' to riiyuinstitiKrM. and tliiw 

01- five of thca; oTi Hit- 

ri(ii'i[iiil fi-ont covi-m! Iiy ii ]Hinico. It is it 

Biiii])le m^'ipl, iitiil, Uii'i 

111; tlic jhn'tiw, out' uiniiifnilv sniml to the 

ctimutu, mill cHiNilik- of ii 

tt-niiil comfort and fxtcnial ^'raiidtur, lliongli 

the atteiuiit to rfiidci' it Claasifiil lias faijiioiitly luarait the latter 
qaality. Ao far as hc know, i-itliui' fixim his pulilislied ilniwintrs or 
from siicli (lL-ei;riis as ciiu iintliciitii^ally In: a»Til>L'd to tiini, nu 
examplu! of this cliiss were ]tri)H09e<l liy Jones, On the contrary, 
there is an iivi^'inality und ]iliiyfulni;ga alxait liis piililislieil desi^s 
whifh mijiht liave miide morc exiierisive and Ifssnimfoiiiilile dwcllintw 
in this eouiitrj-, Imt ivonld alwap have lioeii cif^ant, iind nc^-cr twiu- 
monplacc. He fell, however, lijxin evil days, us the troiihles of the 
Commonwealth aupen'cned liefoi-e his career wns half o\er, and l)efore 
any of Iiis great conceptions were praciiciilly realised ; lint we know 
enongrh of what he did, and of what he conld do, to l>o iihU- to assign 
to him the very first nnik among the artistic iirc^hitwts of England 
during the Renaissance period. AVi'cn may haie W-ai irri'iUcr in cou- 
struction, but was not etjnal to Jones in desitrn : anil we hiok down 
the ratike from that day to this without finding any imnies we can 
fairly cUbb with those of these two givat men. This, however, muy 


be owing to the circumstances in wliich the architects of subsequent 
ages were placed more than to the individual deficiencies of the men 

II.— Wrex.i 

If Inigo Jones had a practical monoply of the architectural pro- 
fession in England up to the time of the Commonwealth, that of Sir 
Christopher Wren was even more complete after the Restoration ; for 
no building of importance was erected during the last forty years of 
the seventeenth century of w^hich he was not the architect. 

Both by birth and education Wren was essentially a gentleman, 
and at a very early age was remarkable as a prodigy of learning, not 
only classical but mathematical. The Ixjnt of his mind, however, 
seems to have been towards the latter ; and he early distinguished 
himself by the zeal and success with which he cultivated the i)}iysical 
8cien(X'S ; Imt we do not know, either what first made him turn his 
attention to Archite(;ture, or when he determined on following it as a 
profession. It certainly could hardly l)e during the Commonwealth, 
when tlieix^ was no room for its exeivise ; but three years after the 
Restoration we find his name on a commission for re|)airing and restoring 
Old St. Paurs, and acting as the architect to can-y out the works 
determined upni. In the following year (KJOJr) he gave the designs 
for the Sheldonian Theatre at Oxford ; and as that building was 
wholly carried out from his plans and under his superintendence, and 
is also one of his lx.'st and most difficult works, we may assume that 
he was then an architect by ])rofession, and had mastered all the 
preliminary studies reijuisite for its exercise. 

It is not, however, yet clear that even then he would have followed 
it exclusively, and might not have gone back to astronomy and the 
mathematical pursuits in which he had achieved so great a reputation, 
had it not l)een for the Great Fire of London in 1C6G. He was at 
Paris, studying apparently the works then going on there, when this 
gi'eat calamity hapixjued ; and hurried back immediately to assist in 
taking his share in the great work of ixjstoration. 

His first great step in tliis direction was preparing a plan on 
which he projwsed the city should be rebuilt. Unfortunately for us 
it was found impracticable at the time to carry this out, as, had it 
been followed, it would have made London not onlv one of the 
handsomest, but one of the most convenient cities in the world. The 
opportunity, however, was lost ; and subsecjuent improvers can 
only contmue to mouni over the blindness or the selfishness of their 
forefathers who neglected the op])ortunity. 

Boni 1C32: died 1723. 


Although he was not permitted to direct the alignment of the 
streets, the tire gave him an opportunity of rebuilding Ht. Paul's and 
some fifty other churches, and so eomplcUily establighed hiB reputa- 
tion t!mt every architectural work of importance for nearly lialf a 
century was iutrusttid to his care ; and although we cannot but 
tejoicij that so comjKtent a mau was found for so great au occasion, 

III. Plin of SI. PiuL I Cttbslrtl u oriK nillv ilmlimH] bj Sir Chrtriophtr Wren. 

we must at the same time feel that more work was tlu-own on bia 
hands than any one nmn could perform, and consequently many of his 
desigiiB show marks of ha»te, and of a want of due consideration. 

The greatest of all liia works is of couiw St, Paul's — the largest 
and finest Protestant cathedral in the world, and, after St. Peter's, the 
most splendid church erectvd in Europe since the revival of Classical 
Architocture. The fire had decided the fate of the old cathedral, bub 



it was not till iiinu yeai-g ufU^rwanls (IGTA) tliat an; p»u-tii.'»t steps 
ware taken to rebuild it. The foundation-stone of the present cLiirch 
was laid on the 2Ist June in tliat year, and thirty-five yviim ufter- 
warda the top-stone of this lantern mw laid hy Sir Christopliui Wren, 
thus practically eomptetinfr the building in ITU'.' 


As early as 1C7S Wren bid preimred scvenil di-sifrns fur the uew 
church, which were then anlimittcd to the Khi^ ; and nne uinmreiitiy 
the one he himself liked l)e8t) was sL'lwtud, mid n modfl oitk-red to Ije 


prepai*ed on such a scale and in such detail as might prevent any 
difficulty arising afterwards in the event of the architect's death. That 
model still exists, now under repair, at the South Kensington Museum, 
and is so complete that we have no difficulty in criticising it as we 
would a church which had been completed. As will be seen from the 
annexed plan, it is arranged much in the same manner as Sangallo's 
design for St. Peter's (Woodcut No. 24) — ^practically a Greek cross 
with a dome in the centre, and a detached frontispiece, joined to the 
main body of the building by a narrow vestibule or waist, in which 
are situated two of the principal entmnces. The central dome, which 
was to ha^•e been of the same diameter as the present one (a little over 
100 ft.), was, like it, to stand on eight arches — four of them 38 ft. in 
diameter, the other four about 22 ft. These opened into eight apart- 
ments, each coveixxl by a dome 45 ft. in diameter, but placed at vaiy- 
ing distances from the central dome. For the pui'poses of a service 
church, in which the congregation is an imixjrtant ele^nent, it cannot 
be doubted that this arrangement is superior to that of the 
prc'sent church, the great defect l)eing a want of definite proportion 
between the small and large arches supjx)rting the dome. As they all 
sprung from the same level, the wide arches are too low, the narrow 
ones arc* too high ; Init the practiciil difference is so slight that it looks 
like bad building, or as if the arc'hitect had made a niistiike in setting 
out the work, and tried to con*ect his error by a clumsy device. Not- 
withstanding this and some minor defects, it cannot but be a matter of 
regret that Sir Christopher was not allowed to carry out his design, 
as the interior as far excelled that of the present church as its exterior 
surpasses that shown in the model ; while looking at the slow and 
tentative steps by which he arrived at the design ^ of the outside of the 
present churc*h, there can be little doubt l)ut that most of the defects 
of the model would have been remedied before beiilg carried into 

One of the greatest defects of the plan, externally, is the introduc- 
tion of the hollow curv^es suiTounding the dome ; but this could easily 
have Ixjen remedied without in the least interfering with the internal 
arrangements, either by introducing a (juadnmt, as shown at a, on the 
left hand of the annexed diagram, bringing the lines of the dome 
down to the ground ; or, better still, l)y introducing an angular 
an*angement, as shown at b, on the right hand.^ In either case the 

* These nre weU shown in the illus- invcntiouHofthe Indian architects in plan- 

trations of Mr. W. Longman's recently- ning nre the octtigonal domes supported 

published * Three Cathedrals dedicated on 12 or more j)illjir8, and the aiiguLir 

to St. Paul in London.' It almost makis disposition of tlie masonry of their ^rreat 

one shudder to see what we have es- to^\ers. The latter not only gives greiit 

caped. strength oonRtructively.butafibrds infinite 

■ The two great and mobt successful play of light and hhade, and variety of 

VOL. 11. T) 



luiGB of these four angular domes ou^ht to ha\e been omt-d through 
the roof, thi, cornice of their drams rangiug with that of the strlo- 
bato of the great dome and bght being introduce*! into thcni by 
openings atthtirbase as la done m all Bjzmtine ihuithw Hid this 
been done it wonid not onW lia^e gnen\anetym tht. roof whei\ it 
IB rather wanted internally hut the group of fist, domes in the Ltntre 
of the chiir(,h the lines of four of which arc actuallj brought down 
to the ground txttnially, would ha\e been a happia amngtmenL than 
has yet Itixn obtained in these domical churches 

The line could easily ha(c been nude straight hne'il but the 
western fnmt at shuHn m the model ]iresciiCs a dithenlt\ not so 
easily „ot o\fcr V ^Rat portico coniiatiiig of pillars more thm (> ft 
in hei^'ht backed hj a range of pilastere less than it) ft with their 
cntabUturcf) on the s.iine Ic^el would ha\e been a Bolucisni nothing 
could well get o\cr ' Sir Christopher himself seems to ha\L fek this 

dosign ''ir Chnstopl cr Wren adopti d 
tlie Snt with [lerTpot Bucceu m tl o In 
t«nr>T ( f St. Slepbea t Wulbrook and It i 
would huvH bein curiouB if bo hud hit 
upi>n the other iu St. PmVt. If lio hnd I 
wlopted ihu form 8ug)i;e'Htcd at b, it would 
havu KxalttHl in a plun ah esstnitiull; ' 
Indiiin as St. Sti^phe-ri'it, nnd would pro- 
bnblj- have been at grent a BiiocetB ei- 
ternally, tLat is, na an interior. 

p. 115, is of opiuion that he wiu very 
nearly adiiptiiiK a lhi^l Indian inTeotiuii. 
by haiigiug a w[-l|;ht ioaidu his dome tn 
connttTiiet tho outwiinl tlituat, as ia ilone 
at BecjajKiTB (' Hiutory ot Arcliite-clnrc,' 
^1^ ii.; WoiHlcutB lilU to 1125). Ili^i 
^UKtratioiiB curtuinly scom to cuuu- 

tmatico tlilB I leii and I wiali I contd 
beliiio that it wan w but I am frai I it 
in only ii timber acrten to In 1 ll o mo.le 
in wliieli tliu iip|K-r ileiniu ii li-;ltte'l — nn 
('laftt'enition, in fnct.of the nimlc ailnpltd 
by llardoiiin, iit the Invalidi s in Paris 
(Wiiodcut 104), with tin- drawiiige „f 
whicli Wreii wan no dcjulit rHiniliic. Ha.1 
BO iiorel an iMjH'diunt lyi'nrtiii tii him, 
some allusion to it nin»( Imv.. b, en fm.nd 
in till- ' I'litiiitoUa,' or mime raleuhilionB, 
an irilinite nimilier of whirh wmild liavc 
been rei|uiic!d lu indmv iienmniiHsifin to 
iillnw ita iLa.>ptl..n. 

' It W.IB like tbi- waul i.f i 

11 •! tlnitu 

pM|ioitinn lietween the un^at i 

in.1 xniall 

arehes uuiKt tbo .h.nies iiit.Tii 

inllv. and 



for in one of his drawings, published by Dugdale,^ the entrances on 
the west are under the pillars of the portico, as in the flanks, which 
certainly was much more in accordance with rule, but at the expense 
of common sense, as the portico then beciime a useless ornament, and 
would much better have been omitted altogether. 

Assuming, however, that the external form of the dome would have 
been modified till it resembled the present one, that the western cam- 
paniles would have l)een introduced, and that the whole design would 
have been revised in the sense al)ove indicated, the result certainly 
would have been far more satisfactory than the present design. Inter- 
nally, the gradually-increasing magnificence from the principal 
entrance to the great dome, with nothing l)eyond but a small choir 
of the same design and length as the transepts, would have been in 
perfect taste, while the ever-varying ])ei'sjK*ctives in the great circum- 
ambient aisle of the dome — would have surpassed those in the great 
aisle that suiTounds the dome at St. Peter's, while, externally, nearly 
all the faults of the present design would have been avoided. 

These, however, are idle speculations now. Whether in consequence 
of the influence of the Duke of York, as is commonly asserted, or 
whether owing to the feelings of the clergy, who wanted arrangements 
similar to those they had been accustomed to in their own cathedrals, 
the model was thrown aside, and Wren was ordered to ])roduce a 
design embodying the present armngements in plan. This design 
was submitted to the King, and aj)proved of in the year 1(175,^ and, 
externally at least, is so inferior to even the fii"st design, that we are 
justified in assuming that if the present very lx«utiful exterior grew 
out of this, something very much more perfect than either might have 
grown out of the design eml)odied in the model. The interior, as 
then designed, was apparently ver}' much what was afterwards carried 

The great defect of the design in plan is that it consists of two 
moderately-sized apartments, the nave and choir, almost identical in 
design, but separated from one another by a third apartrtient prac- 
tically more than double the width and also double the height of 
either. It is practically three distinct churches, and not so aiTanged 
as to get the best effect out of them. Had the choir been only the 
same length as the transepts —adding, of course, the apse — and the 
two eastern bays been added to the nave, it would have done nuich to 
redeem the plan. But the radical defect was the adoption of the 

» 'Hifltory of St. PuulV London. 1814- Tliough caHed in tlio K..yjil Warrant 

1818, opposite p. 124. This seems to "very artificial, proptr, ancl useful," it 

have been enrlier than the model, and in now Bppenrs to us 8in«rularly devoid of 

fact Wren's first design. art, improper, and for the most part 

• Published by Mr. Longman in his useless for tlio pur^wses for which it was 

•Three Cathedrals of St. Paul,* p. 113. intenJeil. 

T> 2 


oota^nal ])liiii for thu dome' Practically t)n» mluixd the "UHh O: 

all tliL' iiiljoiniii}!: coiupnrtuiuiits to 40 fuel, whcruiui, an al>ovc jHiinicil 

' In umking tliiB dreigo. Sir ClJiisto- (?iouih'<I tiiRtlbCT nf nil v.-idtlia, luiit il*lf 

plier >vii9 [inilmbly thinking of tlw wry to »urli an inTHnpi.[innt in n inuimer in- 

beautiful tftitt gained by an oi'ti'gmiiil i'ntii|nitibl(- witli tlic gii'stcr Bevcrity of 

»mnfi:eiueiit at Ely : he, li(iirevi-r, over- llic round anlii'd Btylcs : hut at Ely tliu 

lookeil tlic fuct tliHt ilie llviiliiltty of the nrrliilect abaudnnod thu vista ainnfr tin- 

lBdDt«d Btylu ndniittiiig arci<e« to bo iiisli», as jiractic illy not wnrtb pn-aiTViog. 


oftbeDo «nf<it.Pul>Citli«lnl. 

ont, at least 60, or Bomtthiug iKitwuen that iind ttie Byzantine jH-o- 
portion of 100, were nefussBrj' to hriiifr tlie jjarts at all into luinuoiiy. 
ThU led to a thii-d difficulty. It v;aa imiiossiMe timt ihy ultuniatt; 
archcfl of the dome could be JU feet wirk Ix'low, and as ihcy miuit 
apriog from the same level and reach the same liei^rht, ii vuriety of 
mechanical expediciitB were iieceamiry which have iK-como r;al de- 
formities in practice. They iiii<rht to Boine extent Ix: ri'medied now 
— for instance, by introducing two pillars standing five and cniTyiiig 
the entablature horizontally across, and sopiwrLiuf; n real ti'iliuiie with 
a bold balcony In front, in place of the pi-esent cun^ed i-ornio?, or by some 


such expedient. But notliing could remedy the comparative iiaiTow- 
ness of the nave ; and the vista along the aisles, on which the arcliitect 
mainly depended for effect, is only productive of confusion. In plan it 
looks pixjtty, but, as seen in perspective, the distance across the great 
dome which separates the nave aisles from those of the choir is so 
great as entirely to neutralise the effect so sought to be obtained. 

The enormously disprojwrtionate height of the dome — 216 feet 
against 1(>8 in width — dwarfs everjthing around it, and it does not 
itself look half so spacious as it would have done had it sprung from 
the stringcourse abpve the Whispering Gallery, in which the pilasters 
of the dome now stand.^ Wren seems to have l)een haunted with tht 
idea, that he ought to scoop as much as he i)ossibly could out of tlu 
dome btH3ause Brunelleschi and Michael Angelo had done so ; but it 
ceitainlv was a mistake. Had he been content with one 40 or 50 feet 
lower he would have done something towards harmonising his disprojxn- 
tionate jiarts, and his cone, which is a jx-'ifectly legitimate constructive 
expedient, would not then have inti^rfered with his architecture. As 
it is, it foreed him to slojx) forward the interior i)illai's Ixitwcen the 
windows in a mamier utterlv dijstructivo of all true aivbit<K.*tuml effect. 

Besides these defects of ]>roi)ortiou there is one of detail, which 
runs through the whole design and mai*s it to an extent so gre*at that 
the wonder is Wren could ever have introdnced it. Throughout the 
whole interior, over the great Order, there runs a i)erfectly useless 
attic, 12 feet high, between it and the si>ringing of the vault. It was 
introduced i)robably to give greater height to six windows in the 
biulding, thive at the east end and one at the end of each of the tran- 
septs and nave. But this was very little gain, and it divorecd his vault 
from the Order that ought to support it, fore'ed him to omit the archi- 
trave and frieze of his Order everywhere, to allow sufficient height to 
the arches of the nave and choir, and generally introduced a most 
unnecessary complexity and weakness into the whole design. The 
remedy for all this was shnple. Without interfering with his dimen- 
sions or construction in anv wav, he had onlv to incre'tuse his Order six 
or seven feet in height, and so reniuce his attic to blocking course. 
Had he done this, the entablature* might have run unbroken all round 
the church, and the taller Order would have given dignity and ])ro- 
portion to all his larger are'hes, esiiecially under the dome, where* the 
additional height is nnich wanted.^ 

* If Ely waa the model he was follow- to spring from tht* cornice of the Order of 
ing, he ought to have recollected that the nave and choir. 

the dome of Ely, if it may U* so called, 
springs from the same capitals as the 

* This might bt" done now, but would 
be expensive; it would, however, do 

great arches ot the nave and choir ; and ; more to improve the efteet of the church 
though in the centre there is a hmtern internaUy than any change that could 
which is higher, architecturally it is as | be made, except, perhaps, lowering the 
if the dome of 8t. Panrs had been made , dome. 


AImdvc this attic rises the vault, which by no means helps to excuse 
its intnxluction, for it must be confessed it is sinfjularly confused and 
inartistic, consisting of a series of small flat domes, 2G ft. in diameter, 
each sun'ounded by a very heavy wreath of mouldings, which the 
little string of ornament along the aiTis of the supporting vaults 
seems painfully inadefpiate to support. It is possible some of these 
defects might be remedied or concealed by judicious painting ; but 
notliing that can now be done will effectually cure them. The fact 
seems to Ixj that Wren was met by the sjime difficulties wluch all 
architects have experienced in trying to adapt Classical details to 
Gothic fonns. Besides this, he seems always to have had Ixifore his 
eyes the mechanical difficulties of his tiisk, and, when the two apj)eared 
to conflict, he seems invariably to have allowed the mechanical exigen- 
cies })re(;edence over the artistic. This has enabled him to construct 
a singularly stable church, but one which, as an artistic design, is 
internallv veiT inferior to St. Peter's at Kome, imnieasurablv so when 
compared to such a church as 8t. Gene\"ieve at Paris, and one which 
must not l)e mentioned in conjunction with the Byzantine or Gothic 
designs whose features he was trying to adapt. 

It is extremely difficult to as(!ertain how far Sir Christopher 
intended to rely on jwiinting or coloured decoration of any sort to 
remedy these defects, or for the completion of the interior of his cathe- 
dnd. From a note in the * Parentalia ' (p. 202) we learn that, instead of 
j>ainting, which was detennined upon against his will, he proix)sed 
" to beautify the inside of the cupola with the more durable ornament 
of mosaick work, as is nobly executed in the ('uix)la of St. Peter's at 
Rome." It is probable also that he intended to adorn the spandrils 
of the dome under the WhisiKTing (iallery with paintings or mosaics 
such as are shown in Emmett's engraving dated 17U2.^ It may also 
be inferred that he intended to paint or colour the nine great domes 
of the nave, choir, and transepts, as these are finished in plaster and 
not in stone like the rest of the vault, and he may also have proposed 
to adorn the apse either with marble or piintings in imitation of 
marble, as is now^ done. These paintings or mosaics would have, of 
course, involvcKl a certain amount of gilding of the ai*chitectural orna- 
ments, but it is more than doubtful whether Sir Clu'istopher ever 
intended to have gone beyond this in this direction. The whole spirit 
of the age in which he lived was inimical to coloured architecture. 
Wherever any traces of it were found in Gothic buildings it was votad 
a barbarism, and carefully covered uj) with whitewash, and it is only 
within the last thirty or forty yeai-s that our revived taste for the 
Gothic style, and the discovery that the Greeks also coloured theii' 
architecture, that the idea has come to be tolerated amongst us. In 

* Engraved by Longman, in his * Three Catlicdrals of St. Paul/ p. 149. 


Wren's days, to ha\'e coloured the interior of a Protestant church even 
to the extent above indicated must have seemed a most dariiiir and 
hazardous innovation, and it is no wonder that the coniniLssion pre- 
ferreil Sir James Thomhiirs monoi*hromes to their ai-chitect's mosaics. 
Thoujrh he regrcttetl this, and justly, he would have Ixjen more vexed 
and horrified had any one pix)]K)sed to uke out his stone aix'hitectui'e 
with colour. The idea of addinj? (.'olour to his capitiils or cornic<.«, or 
covering his friezes or walls with i>anels or painted ornaments, would 
have sunk deejxir into his heart than the refusal of SiUary, or any 
of the other annoj^ances to which he was so cmclly exixised. His 
stone architectui'e was, as he considered, complete in itself, and 
reciuired no aid from any adventitious art.* 

Be this as it may, it apiMjara that most of the defc»ct« of the interior 
of St. Paul's have arisen from the fact that, both from the natural 
Iwnt of his mind and from the cin*umstances of his education, AVren 
was more of an engineer than an architect, and, c()iisi'ijui.'ntly, was 
freijuently led to disi)lay his mwhanical skill at tlie exiH.'nse of his 
artistic! feelings : and, genenilly s]K'aking, he had not thai intimate 
knowledge of the resources of Architectural Ait — esix^-ially the "" ars 
refare artem^' — which might have enabled him to avoicl jxirading his 
mechanical exjKKlients so offensively as he has fiXMjuently done, and 
most esjK-'cially in the interior of St. Paul's. It is only fair to add, 
however, that if the building had Ix^en c()m])leted and ornamented 
with sculpture and punting even to the extent designed l)y its archi- 
tect, the effec^t might have been different from what we now see. If all 
its structund defwts could not have been concealed, attention might 
have been at least so far distracteil from them that thev would hardly 
have been remarked, and it might even internally have had some 
claim to rank sec'ond among the IlenaissiUice churches of Euroix*. 

The arrangement of the exterior is infinitely more successful than 
that of the interior. The general design of tho dome is by far the 
most ple^ising which has yet l)eeii acc()in])lished, and the ein])loyment 
of a wooden covering by no means objwjtionable under the cin;um- 
stances. It is only what every Gothic building in Euroi)e jx)ssessi'S — 
a wo(xlen roof externallv over a stone vault in the interior: and it 
enabled Sir Christopher to mould it to any form that pleased the 
eve, and to c^utv the whole gra(.'efullv to the height of :*(!(» ft. from 

* It by no monns follows from tliia, that ftrchiti»ct iiioro cftpable thnn Wru to form 

vre at tho pn^sont day would uotlx* junti- a corm*t judjrmi^nt. uud to carry out puch 

lied in adding colour to any extent, pro- a work. Without thvi^*' two rvquisitt't*, 

vidwl wo f«*lt certain that the tAsto of the we run grt-at risk of niunh'rinir ?^t. Paul's, 

present day in these matters was b<*tter in the same; manner as Durlingtou House 

than that t)f the ape when St. rauVswas has recently been murdered, 
erected, and if we felt sure of finding an 


the fl(Mjr-liiie to the top of tlie i^ioaa, witliout auy njiparent effort 

The eoloiiiiade aurroundiiij^ the dome U also ([UJt^i uiisurpaBBed. 
By blocking up every fourth iiitcreolumniatiou, he not only got a 
great appearance of strength, hut a depth of Bliadow Iwtwccn, which 
gives it a richness and variety combined with simplicity of outline 
fulfilling every nx]ui8ite of good architecture, and rendering tliis part 
of tile design immensely superior to all its rivals. Owing also to the 
re-entering angles at the junction of the nave and transepts coming 
80 close to it, you see what it stands upon, and can follow ita 
whole outline from the ground to the cross without any tax on the 

The great defect of the lower part of the Icsigii irom from ^^ run 
not aw'cpting frankly the llediac^-al arra ^nictt of i il n,«tor> and 
side aisles. If his aisle had jirojectui lx.iund the line of tl upiwr 
Storey, there would at once have bet.ii an obvious and imperative 


reason for the adoption of two Orders, one over the other, which 
has been so much criticised. Supposing it were even now determined 
to till up the interval Ixitween the propyla?a and the tnuisfpt, as 
shown by the dotted lines on the plan at A (Woodcut 174), the 
whole would be reduced to hannony ; it would hide the windows in 
the pedestals of the upjxjr niches, which are one of the gR»at blots in 
the design ; and by giving greater simplicity and breadth to the 
lower stoixy, the whole would obtain that repose in which it is some- 
what deficient. 

The west front is certainly open to criticism as it now stands, there 
being no suggestion externally of two storeys, or two aisles of diffeR'iit 
heights. But its dimensions, the beauty of its details, the happy out- 
line of the campaniles, the proportion of these to the facade, and of all 
the parts one to another, make up the most pleasing design that has 
yet been executed of its class. 

The same may be said of the transepts. Their circular ix)rticoes, 
and the proportions of all the pirts, their harmony with, and subordina- 
tion to, the principil fayade, are all extremely plwising ; and though 
it would he easy to mention minor pohits which our greater knowledge 
of the style would enable us to remedy, it will hardly be disputed that 
the exterior of St. Paul's suqwsses in Ixjauty of design all the other 
examples of the same class which have yet been carried out ; and, 
whether seen from a distance or near, it is, externally at least, one of 
the grandest and most beautiful churches of Europe. 

[The Design of the Do^le of St. Paul's. — The question of the 
artistic merits or demerits of the design of our famous metroj)olitan 
dome, taken as a critical exercise on high ground, is one that is well 
worthy of consideration. As a preliminary the i*eader is retjuested to 
compare carefully the section of this dome (Xo. 175) with the sections 
of the dome al Mantua (Xo. IC), the dome of St. Peter's at Rome 
(No. 80), the dome of the Invalides at Paris (Xo. 104:), the dome of the 
Pantheon at Paris (No. 110), the dome of St. Isaac's at St. Petiji-sburg 
(No. 263), and the dome of the Capitol at Washington (Xo 280). The 
primary purpose of the designer in all these instances is the same, 
namely, to constnict as the central feature of a p}Tamidal group a 
crux-tower, circular on plan, crowned with an outside dome for 
appropriate effect in external proportion, and occupied by an inside 
dome for appropriate effect in internal proportion. IIow are the two 
effects to Ikj combined ? The elementary constniction of a dome on 
scientific principles is very suggestively represented in the example at 
Mousta (Xo. 10). This would l)e built of stone or brick, or an 
equivalent, and is, in fact, a strictly structural circular vault. In the 
East the self-same scientific object is accomplished with every facility 
in concrete. There is no reason why timber should not be employed in 
the form of exposed quadrantal ribs with a covering. So also iron, 


even cast iron, in the same form of radiating ri])8, could not be objected 
to on principle ; and it may Ixj remarked that the great conical iron 
roof of the Exhibition Building at Vienna is in eveiy respect the more 
primitive or simple counterpart of a dome, although without curvatui-e. 
(That is to say, there is a series of iron rafters, converging from a 
circular sill at the bottom to the base of a circular lanteni at the top, 
and braced at inteiTals by circular horizontal ribs, like the parallels of 
latitude and longitude of the geographers ; and it makes no diffei*ence 
in principle so far whether the raftere are curved or straight.) In all 
these cases alike one of two general laws, or both combined, nuist be 
observed ; first, the artificial ecjuilibration — unless the cur\e be a 
catenaiT — or tlie graduated depth of the arch vertically (veiy distinctly 
shown in the Mousta dome) ; secondly, the efficient use of bond laterally 
(as most prominently exhibited in the Vienna cone). The pei-fect mode 
of theoretical (construction — and practical too ixThaps — is the Oriental 
system, whereby the whole dome is made a solid inverted cup of 
concrete as artificial stone ; although, it need scarcely be Siud, if this cup 
is not in equilibration as regards its thickness tliroughout, the strains 
of the areh will find out any weak ]>oint and there break it if they 
can. Now if we turn to the St. Peter's dome — whit^h followed the 
lead of the Duomo at Florence, another good example — \\\' see two 
vaults, or we may prefer to say one vault with outer and inner shells. 
Chain bond has to l)e largely allowed for here, esfK'cially to carry the 
lantern, which of course loads the dome for the sake of api)earance 
exactly where it ought not to be loaded for strength. But, artistically, 
the point to be noted is that the outer form coincides with the inner — 
as it ought to do ; the outside surface and the inside suiface are both 
equally legitimate? to the dome ; and the slightly projecting peristyle 
aroimd the base (the particular arniugement of the columns ]>eing 
only matter of taste) senes to add grace, as well as a httle strength 
perhaps, to the structure. In the ^lantua case (Xo. 10) the motive is 
80 much simpler as to be in fiict primitive, like the domes of the East ; 
the equilibration being elementary, and the disturbing load of the 
lanteni insignificant. Turning next to the example of the Paris 
Invalides (Xo. 104), we see a vital difference of treatment as compared 
with St. Peter's. The architect is not satisfied with the altitude of the 
interior dome for exterior effect, and he therefore superhnposes a lofty 
roof of timber-work which is made of domical outUne for the sake of 
form alone. The intermediate vault for decorative painting may fairly 
be taken as a legitimate part of the interior dome ; but the roof above, 
with its lantern, is palpably a make-l)elieve, if we are to accept in any 
way the critical principle that the skin without ought to tell the story 
of the anatomy within. A pin-ist like Street would have covered the 
tower with a plain conical roof to throw off the rain — as was frequently 
done in Byzantine churches — but the modern Italian tradition i^inted to 


a doiue-shaixid roof, and here it is. No one would \v\»h to deny its 
beauty of proportion, and indeed its preferableness in this resixx't to 
the dome of St. Peter's, which is considered to l)e di8j)roiK)rtionatdy 
low. Moreover, there are j)rol):il)ly few who would admire etjually in 
practice the simple honesty of the plain Byzjintin • roof-ooverinjr. 
I^lenty of examples also, are to Ix* (juoted of jrreat S'juaixi roofs, which 
are more or less un(xx*upied inside, es|)ecially in France. But, if it l)e 
admitte<.l that this exterior dome of the Invalides is a roof-coverinjr 
and nothin«r more, then the- iiKfuiry must} close with this admission. 
The form of the roof-coverin«r at last is clearly seen to l)o non- 
coustructive, and a mere consideration of ele*rance — almost like the 
case of St. Clark's at Venice, where tlie outside domes rise like balloons 
for :>o ft. above the structural vaults within. Take next in order the 
dome of the Paris Pantheon (Xo. llo). This desijrn is in external 
effect of similar motive, but in internal anatomy more justifiable^ 
The super-vault for the juinter mux probably l)e considered to fill the 
interior si)a(v sufficiently ; and the absence of timlxT-work may 
justify still more the desi<ru as a whole in resix*ct of le<i:itimate 
an'hitectural (M)nstruction. Hut turn now to the case of St. Paul's 
(Xo 17">). This desijrn differs from all the fore«i:oin<j: in the most 
im]M)rtant particulars. The eye of the internal dome is 215 feet from 
the floor, whirii, as matter of proportion, is (piite as nmch ils the 
architect could Ik* expected to mana^^e well, if not more. For exterior 
pro])ortion, however, he demands ^t') feet more, l)esides *,)(► feet still 
more for a lantern and its crowninjir cross. The ])roblem is how to 
brinir these widelv different altitudes toj^ether : and this is how it is 
solved. In the fii'st ]»]a<'e, a whole hemisijhere — virtually the same as 
in the case of St. Mark's at Venice — must be built up stmiehow above 
the interior sinnmit ; and this shall be done with timl)er-work as an 
elevated roof. Hut it is further determined that the lantern shall l)c 
of stone, in sj)it4i of its enormous dead-weijj:ht, and in spite also of its 
8urmountin*r a balloon of timlxT-work. The injrenious contrivance is 
therefore Resorted to of buildinir up in cont.'ealment a vast cone of 
brickwork from the drum of the inner dome — itself conicalised to 
receive it in a wav which is not identifiable with anv artistic motive — 
and by this hidden artifice a sufhcient suj>iM>rt is at last achieved at 
the sunnnit, on which to place the weijrht of the stone lantern. The 
further expenditure of injrenuity in forminj; the outside jnofile of the 
domical roof, with its drum and jK^ristyle, in ]>erfect want of accord 
with everythinjr inside, may be judj^ed of from the entrravinj; ; and 
the critical (piestion — which need not slux'k our jMitriotism too nuich — 
is, how to re<'oncile all this insrenuity with the artistic principle of 
anatomical tnith. That the famous dome of St. Paul's is a tower, 
and not ]»roi)erly a dimie at all, may 1h* said easily enouirh ; and that 
the altitude of it is admirably proj^ortioned in the jrroupinjr is CMpially 


allowable ; but what shall wo say of the make-believe, or, in modern 
phrase, the sham ? Befort answering this fjuestion for himself, 
however, let the patriotic reader console himself hj referring to tlie 
dome of St. Isaac's at St. Petersburg (So. 2G;^), and that of the Capitol 
of the United States at Washington (No. 286). In the case of St. 
Isaac's the reconciliation of the inner skull and the outer hat is boldly 
achieved by constructing a cone of cast-iron ribs, which has the iron 
frame- work of the interior vault attached to it l)elow, and tlie iron 
lantern imposed upon it above, the curviUnear roof, also of iron, Imug 
then put on the back of the cone. This Ls non-anatomical enough ; 
but what shall we say of the American example ? There we ha\'e tiie 
whole great visible pile (No. 286), 140 feet in diameter at the base of 
the podium, 90 feet in diameter at the dome-roof, and 220 feet liigh 
from the general parapet level of the building to the head of the 
crowning statue, literally all of iron, designed by the engineer to 
accommodate the architect's profile with a guileless audacity wliich 
leaves all other sliams in the wide architectural world at an innneasur- 
able distance. In this instance, as in that of St. Paul's, it will l)e 
argued by many that the external proportions amply ])ay for the dis- 
regard of anatomical virtue ; but the philosophy of architectural 
criticism will Imj held bv others to reject such argument at all hazards. 

If the position of Sir Christopher Wren as an architect were to be 
estimated solely from what he has done at St. Paul's, the result would 
probably Ixi, that his cliaracter would stand higher as a constructive 
than as an artistic architect There are, however, two Imildings close 
by, an examination of which must considerably UKxlify this verdict 
The steeple of Bow Church Ls beyond all doubt the most elegant build- 
ing of its class erected since the Reformation ; and no Protestant 
church is more artistically or gracefully an-anged than tlie interior of 
St. Stephen's, Walbrook. 

Like all Wren's steeples, that of Bow Church stands well on the 
ground ; for he never was guilty of the absurdity of placing his spires 
astride on the portico, or thrusting them through the roof. It consists 
first of a plain square tower :32 ft. in. wide by 88 ft. in height, above 
which are four storeys averaging 38 ft. each. The first, a sipiare 
belfry, adorned ^^^th Ionic pilastera, is 39 ft. ; the next, which int^ludes 
the beautiful circular peristyle of twelve Corinthian colunms, is 37 : the 
third comprehends the small lantern, and is 38 ft. high, whicli is also 
the height of the spire, the whole making up a height of 235 ft. 

There are errors of detail which proba])ly the architect himself 
would have avoided in a second attempt, and, as they arose only from 
an imperfect knowledge of Classical details, might easily ]>e remedied 
at the present day. It only wants this slight revision to harmonise 
what little incongruities remain, and, if it were done, this steejile 



niipht challciipx' ooinpiiriaoii with any (lotliic csTCHmiilu ever crwtel. 
IiiiKi'd, t'veii m it uoiv is, tlwrc is n plaj of light and fiUade, a vuriuiy 
of iJiitliNf, aiid an tU'KuiKi; of di'tail, whicii it would \k vtry diificult 
lo match iti any other stocjile. Tlicrc ia no fp'uaUjr proof of Wren's 
p;nini' iliau Ut oliscn^u tluit, iiftt-r he had wjt the txaniido. not only 
has no architect since his day siirjuiwocl him, 
but no other modem stficple can com)Hire with 
this, cither for Iwanty of oiitliiit; or the appro- 
priateness with which ClassicAl details arc 
appliwi to so novel a purjioBc, 

The interior of St. Stephen's, Walbrook, 
contains as ninch orl^fiiiality, and, as far as its 
architect was concemetl. as mnch novelty, as the 
steeple of How. .\s remarked in a previons 
part of tlie work,' the plan of placinj: a circular 
dome on an octagonal Iwsc, sin >ix) hy eight 
Pinal's, was an early and long a favoiiritv mode 
of HK)!)])^' in the East, anil the conRe(]Uent 
vai'iety ohmined liy making the diverging aisles 
ri'8|XH.'t ively in the ratio of 7 to in,- intiiiltcly 
more pleasing than the Gothic plan tif floublin^ 
tlicm, unless the height was donbled at the Rime 
time. Wivn, li'iwcver, is the only Enrojiuan 
an.'lntect who sa\v thLs, and availed himself of 
it : and sti-angiT still is it that, though no 
cIniR'h has lieeii so lunch adniia-d, no an-hite<* 
has ever (■opiiil the aiTangemeiit. Hiid Wren 
ever seen an Indian building deaiguiil on this 
j)rini-iple, he no douht would have carried it 
further ; but as it is, be ccrtuinly has pi'odnced 
the most jileasing interior of any Keiiaissani-e 
church which has yet iteeii ertftcd. Like most 
of his works, it fails a little in the detail. 
There in too much of the feeling of Grinling 
Gihiion's wood-caiTing win'ietl inio what should 
lie i-onsinictive ornament ; but, Tiot withstand inj^ 
ScairMjh.'ctbiiiKcii. this slight def<.rt, there ls a cliL-crfuhk-ss, an 

elegance, and a]ipropriateni'ss aliont the interior 
wliii.'h pleases c\-ery one, and which might l)e can'ied even fuilher, if 

It ia extremely difticidt for ns to know now what influcncts were 
brought Co bear on Wivn in making his designs ; hut it seems 
nuaLfountable that the ar<-hiti>ct who could design Bow steeple and 

*Hutory uf ,\rcliiterturv,' vol. i 

' More correctly 7 to 8' 

Ghaf. II. 



the interior of St. Stephen's should have added to the former a church 

which is an ill-desis^ned barn outside, and is paltry and overloaded to 

the last degree inside. Had he joined suuh an interior as that of St. 

Stephen's to his steeple in Chea]«idc, he would have 

produced a design tliat would have raised his character 

as an artist higher than anylhintr he did at St. Paul's ; 

and had any aivhitect the courage to do so now, with 

such modifications as would naturally suggest themselves, 

we might have a church as beautiful, and far more 

appn>iiriiite to Protestant worship, than any of the Gothic 

designs recently erected. 

St. Bride's, Fleet Street, is another of Sir Ciiristopher'a 
most admired designs for a steeple. It wants, however, '^ lol'ft'uiT?' 
the poetry and the evidence of c^i-efnl elai>onition which 
chamcterise its rival of Cheapside. There is something common-place 
in the five upper storeys, each nioi-e or less a re|)etiliou of the one below 
it, and without any "ajipa rent connection. It is iniixissible to avoid the 
idea that they niiglit all 
sink into one another, and 
shut up like the slides of a 
telescope. A c()nsole, a 
butiress, a sloping roof, — 
anything, in short— I je- 
tweeu tile storej-s, would 
have remedied this ; an;! 
could BO easily have been 
applied then — could, in- 
deed, now — that it is 
wonderful that stjme sueb 
expedient eacajied the at- 
tention of so great and so 
constructive an architect. 
Wren conquered this diflieuliy with [x-rfect siia^c-ss at liow church, but 
alt subse<|uent architects have fai!e<l in reconciling the horizontal lines 
of Classical with the aspiring forms of <Jothic Art, and, as in the case of 
of St, Bride's, been unsuct^essful in fusing together the two upjKisiiig 

Extenmlly the church is not i-emarkable for anything but its 
simplicity and ahsence of pi-etension ; and internally the design is 
considerably maiTcd by the netHissity of introducing galleries on each 
Bide — a difficulty which no Classic or fiothic architect has yet fairly 
grappled with and conquered. Here the coupled columns which run 
through and support the aR-hes of the roof are amply sufficient for 
the purpose, and the dwarf pilasters that are attached to them to 
carry, the galleries tell the stoiy with sufficient distinctness. But it 



makt!S a very thick and hiavy pier below, which inipedea TiBioii more 
than is cicBirablc, and the rear cohimu that rniia through the floor of 
the gallery has a very disjointed and awkward appearance. Xi)[with- 
Btanding these defects, it is a well-lighted, commodious, and appropriate 
Protestant church, which has seldom been surgjasscd in these resjtects, 
unless it is by St. James's, Pitv^dilly, which is another and somewhat 
similar design by the same architect. 

The two are, as nearly as may l>e, of the same area — St. Bride's 
being 03 ft. long by 58 wide, St. James's 80 by G7, which is more 
appropriate for an anditorium ; and the B<|narc pier which siipiwrts 
the gallery, aud the single colnnm that stands on it to carry ttK' roof, 
is not only a more artistic, but a more convenient arrangement than 







"s^ IW 


Vltwoftbe InlKiotofSt. Jinips'% Ptcc»dilly. 

the other. Its gi-eatest merit, however, is the mode in which the i-oof 
is constructed : first as a piece of carjientn', but nioiv as an uiijux)- 
priate mode of getting height and light wich a pleasing \aricty of 
form. After St. Steplieu's, Wulbrook, it is Wivn's most successful 
interior ; and, though the c1i!1r-Ii is dishguR'd by u liitk-ous east 
window aud an objectioriiible reredos, and many ol' its ujinor details 
are unplcasing, it is one of the verj' best interiors of its class chat we 

Then; are few of Wren's other chuivln.'S in the city of London 
which do not show some goo<l ]Kiints of detail — some ingeuioii* means 
of getting over the (liflicnlties of site or destinatioti. and not one showing 
any faults of constniction or noeli-w disjilay nf uniieces.sary udjuncls : 
hilt scai'ceiy any of them arc so remarkable as designs us to admit 


of beiug illustrated in a general history ; and, without illustrations, 
a mere enumeration of names and peculiarities is as tedious as it is 

Although Wren, like most of his contemporaries, affected to despise 
the style of our ancestors, he seems occasionally to have l)een subjected 
to the same kind of pressure as is sometimes applied to Gothic archi- 
tects at the present day, and forced to build in what he considered the 
l)arl)arian style. When tliis was the case, he certainly showed to im- 
mense advantage ; for though the details of his Gothic works are 
always morc or less open to criticism, the spirit of his work was 
always excellent, and he caught the meaning of the Gothic design as 
tnily as many of the most proficient of our living architects have been 
able to do. 

One of the most successful of such designs is the tower of St. 
Michaers, Cornhill, which is exceedingly rich and lx)l(l. The church 
attacheil to it was one of Wren's Ixjst designs internally. Considering 
the ditticulties inherent in the locality, which admitted of its being 
lighted only from one side, it was as light and cheerful as it was 
elegant. Within the last few yeai*s it has Ixjen converted into the 
bastard Italian (Jothic, which Ls so gi'eat a favourite with some archi- 
tects, but which accords neither with the lot^ilitv nor the tower, 
nor those featurcs of the church which it has been impossible to 
disiruise. The i*c»sult has Ixjen that Wrcn's work is eiitii'elv destroyed, 
and is rcplaced by an interior whose principal chamcteristic is a 
curious combination between tawdriness and gloom. 

A more successful design than even St. Michael's was the spire of 
8t. l)unstan's-in-the-East, which, though not so strictly Mediaeval in 
its details as to attain jx^rfection as a counteifeit, Ls still sufficiently 
imitative for effect ; and the s])ire which (irowns the whole, resting on 
four arches, possesses more elegance than the specimen at Newcastle 
which is said to have suggested it, or than any other examples of this 
peculiar tyjxi which have come down to us from the Middle Ages. 

The western towers of Westminster Ablnjy are genemlly ascu*il)ed 
to Wivn, and their proportions arc ])erfect, though their details deviate 
more from the Gothic type than is the case with either of the examples 
last quoted. If they arc really his — though this is morc than doubtful 
— this was a singular mistake for such an arc-hitect to make ; for, 
being here joined to a really old Gothic building, the contrast is 
painfully apparent, and a more exact imitation would have lx.*en most 

The tower which Wren added to the parish churcjh at Wanvick is 
another example of how he caught the spirit while despising the 
details of the style. At a distance it seems one of the l)est-propr)r- 
tioned Gothic towers that can l)e found. On a close examination the 
details are all so completely Classic that, whether it is fro 



prejudices of education or any real or essential inconginiity, we are 
offended at having l)een cheated into admiration, and feel inclined to 
put the whole down as a specimen of bad taste. 

Besides the churches which he built, Wren had the good fortune 
to Ixj called upon to erec^t more Royal palaces than any aR-shitect since 
his day ; but he was far from being so successful with them as with 
his ecxjlesiastical buildings. 

That which he erected at Winchester is little better than a great 
brick baiTack, to which pm^pose it is now most appropriatt^ly a]»i)lied. 
It possesses a portico of sLx Corinthian colunms in the c^eutiv, and 
some very attemmted specimens of the same family in the angles, 
which are an attic taller than those thev flank ; but neither seem to 
belong to the building to which they arc attached. 

He was more successful at Hampton Court, though here the base- 
ment is too low, especially in the courtyai-d ; and the dignity of the 
** bel etage " is destroyed by the circjular windows over the principal 
ones, and, where Ordere arc intr()du;'ed, they are mercly as orna- 
ments, and overpowercnl by the attic that crowns them. The great 
merit of this design is its largeness, and being devoid of all affecta- 
tion. From the possession of the first (juality, it contnusts favourably 
with Wolsey's palace, to which it is att:u;lied. Neither is of the l>est 
age of its jKHniliar style, nor |XThii|)8 tlie bi'st of its age ; but there is 
a littleness and confusion about tlie Gothic, as compared with the 
simplicity and grandeur of the Classic, ^vhic^h is altogether in favour 
of the latter. When, however, the earlier design is looked into, it 
displays an amount of thouglit and adapUition to its uses which is 
wholly wanting in the Classic. Wren's design looks as if it could 
have l)een made in a day, — Wolsey's beiirs the imi)ress of long and 
pitient thought applied during the whole time it was in execution ; 
and though, therefore, the conception of the first is grander, the 
ultimate impression derived from the latter is more SiUisfactory and 
more permanent. 

The less said about Chelsea Hospital the lx*tter. It would not be 
easy to find a worse building of the siinie dimensions anywhere : but 
the architect's fame is redeemed bv what he did at Greenwich. The 
two rear blocks are certainlv from his designs, and are not onlv of 
great elegance in themselves, but group most happily with the two 
other blocks nearer the river, the design and the pirtial execution of 
which belong to an earlier jKTiod. 

As before nientione<l, one of Wren's earliest works was the Shel- 
donian Theatre at Oxfonl : and though externally it does not ]K)sses8 
any great dignity, the facade is elegant and appropriate, and the 
intrcKluction of any larger features would have been inappropriate 
and not in accordance with the two ranges of windows and other 
features which the necessities of the building required in other ]»art8. 

Chap. II. 



The roof was justly considered to be in ttuit ngc n perfect iiiasteq)ieou 
of scieiitific caqieiitry, coi-eriiifr an area '<> ft, l>y HO, williout any 
support. The wliolu interior is an'mi-^ed tm aeieTitifieally, iiikI with 
BUch jiid<;ment, tliat a lui'jfer numlxjr of ]x-rs<i]ii' ean see and hcnr in 
this hall than iti any similar lniiUlin;^ in the I'niteil Kin<.'doni : and, 
why, coiiHWiuently, neither M'ren nor any one else e*ur tlumjtht of 
adapting its peculiarities to Church Ai'chitecture is not enKj to 

The Library at Trinity College in the Hister Univei-wity is an 
equally successful tlioufrh a far easier de-sign. Practically it is not 
tinlikc the recently-erected Library of St. (lenevieve at I'iiris, which 
is so much admired (Woodcut Xo, 144), ex(x-pt that then' the lower 
Storey is occupied by hooks, — at Carnln'idjre by nn ojieri cloiBter, but 

which no doubt the architect meant to lie usi-d as an extension, if ever 
more books were reiiniri-d by the Collei^e authorities. Not only is the 
Upper storey well arratifjetl and well lifrlitwl for the irnqxise f(ir «liicii 
it was intende'd, but externally it is a a'lmirkably pleasing' and a]ipro- 
priate design. The efTc-ct timanls tlie courtyard is very nnich Bjioik'*! 
by the floor of the library l)einir bron<:ht d(»vn as hiw as the sprin<rinj( 
of the arches of the arcade which siip|iorts it. Had the siale lieeii 
Bufiicient, it wonid ha\e l>een easy to reiniily this defei-i by intro- 
ducing smaller pillars to support the floor: but, there not Iteinir nmni, 
all that ix done is to block up the to]is of the arches, and it Imiks as 
if the floor had sunk to tlmi extent ; the whole design l>eing charac- 
teristic of Wren's inireiuiity ami goiKl taste, iait also iif hi-; want «S 
knowledge of the artistic iirinci)i'es of desiL'ii. 


It is singular that the architect of these two buildings should ever 
have erected anything so commonplace as the College of Physicians 
in Warwick Lane ; but it is just this inequality that is so puzzling in 
Wren's designs, — ^as, for instance, the Monument at London Bridge is 
one of tlie most successful and most Classical columns which have 
Ixjen erected in Europe, though their name is Legion ; but Temple 
Bar is, jKThaps, the most unsuccessful attempt that ever was made to 
reproduce a Classical triumi)hal archway. Had Wren l)een regularly 
educated as an architect, or had he thoroughly mastered the details of 
the style he was using, as Inigo Jones had done, most of these incon- 
giniities would have l)een avoidc^l ; and there is no reason for supix)sing 
that such an education would have cramped his genius : — on 
the contrary, every reason for Ixilieving that a perfect knowledge of 
his tools would have enabled him to work with more facility, and to 
avoid those erroi-s which so fretjuently mar the best of his designs, 
and, it may l)e added, must inevitably vitiat<j the designs of any man 
who is ])racti8ing an art biised on false principles, and dei)ending for 
its jxirfection on individual talent, and not on the immutable laws of 

Though he did fail sometimes, it cannot be denieil that Wi^en was 
a giant in Architecture, and, considering the difficulties he had to 
contend with, not only from the age in whic.'h he lived, but from the 
lK?opk* he had to deal with, and the small nKxlicuni of tast<i or know- 
Iwlge that prevailed anywhere, we may well Ik^ astonished at what he 
did ac('omi>lish that was go<Hl, rather than wonder at his occasional 
failures. His greatest ])raise, however, is, that though he showed the 
way and smoothed the path, none of his successors have surjmssed — if, 
indeeil, any have e<iualled — him in what be did, though a (^entnry and 
a half have now elajised since his death, and numlxTless oi)|K)rtunities 
have since l>een afforded in every deiwirtment of Ai'chitectural Art. 



Anne 1702 i Ororge II I72r 

Oeurge 1 17i4 George III 1760 

The history of Architecture in Enirlaiul <hirinjr the eijrhteenth 
centurv, if not chanicterised by anvthiii'r so hriliant as tlie career 
of either Jones or Wren, is marked in the lK'«rinninir hy tlie daring 
originality of Vanhrujrh, and closes witli the cori*ect Ulassicality of 
Chambers. It is also intei'esting to watch during its closing ye^irs 
the gradual bifun:ation of styles which has since dividnl the ])ro- 
fession into two hostile cam}*, following principles diametrically 
opposed to each other, and, in their angry haste, diverging further 
and further from the true principles which alone can lead to any 
satisfactory ivsidt in Art. 

The two men who succeeded to "Wren's pmctice and |M)sition — 
Hawksmoor^ and Vanbrugh '-^ — were both lK)rn in the "Annus Mira- 
bilis" (101)0), which ma<le the name and fortune of their givat ])rot<)- 
type. The fonner was his friend and pupil, and, in some instances at 
least, employed to ciirry out his <lesigns. From what we know of the 
pupil's o\vi\ works, we may almost certainly assert that the (h)uble 
spires of All Souls' College at Oxford were designed by the master. 
Tl.ey display the same intimate ai)preciation of the essential ([iialities 
of Gothic Art, combhied with the same disregjjrd of its details, which 
characterise the towers at Warwick or in Coridiill and Wren's Gothic 
work generally ; but in so far Jis ]x>etry of conception or l)eauty of 
outline is concerned, they are infinitely preferable to most of the 
portals erected in Oxford even during the Ixist age, and far suriwss 
any of the very correct ])r(xliU!tions of the present day. 

Hawksmoor was also the an/hitect of St. (Jeorge's, HhM)msbury, 
which is remarkable as one of the earliest of the churches with 
porticoes which l)ecame afterwartls so fashionable. The [xntico here 
consists of sL\ well-])roiH)rtione<l Corinthian }»illai-s ; but instead of 
pilasters at the liack, he has us<i<i half-<-olunins, which look as if they 
had by mistake lx.*en built into the wall, thus adding to the api)eiir- 

» Bom IGGO; dicl ITilO. ^ Burn 10<;t>; diwl 1720. 


ance of uselessness these adjuncts usually suggest. The spire, which 
we are told is intended to realise Pliny's description of the Mausoleum 
at Halicarnassus, has at least the merit of standing on one side ; and, 
if the houses were cleared away a little, so as to admit of its being 
seen, the whole would form as picturesque a group as almost any church 
in London. 

St. Mary's Woolnoth, in Lomhird Street, is another church by 
the same arcliit^H.1, but in a verv diflFerent stvle. Here the effect is 
sought to be attained by bold rustication and massive forms. All the 
forms are original, and to them the Classical details arc entirely 
subordinated. Internally the lighting is principilly from the roof, 
and very successful for a church of this size, though the mode in 
which it is introduced is such as would hardly Ixi applicable to one on a 
larger scale. 

He built also the now celebrated church of St. George's-in-the- 
East, from the design of which almost everv trace of Classicalitv has 
disap|xjared, and where the effect is sought to l)e obtained by grand 
massiveness of form and detail, accompanied by well-marked, and, 
it must be admitted, })erfectly intelligible, distribution of the various 
j)arts of the comi)osition. The result, however, is far from Ix'ing 
satisfactory ; and the term vulgar expresses morc correctly the effect 
pnxluced than jxirhaiis any other epithet that could Ix^ applied to it. 

It shows how unsettled men's minds were in matters of taste at 
this jx^riod, that an architect should have pHxlnced three su(5h churches 
80 utterly dissimilar in principle : the one meant to be an exact repro- 
duction of Heathen forms : another pretending to represent what a 
Protestant church in the lH*giniiing of the eighteenth century should 
be, wholly fived from Classical allusions ; and the third intermcH^liate 
between the two, original in form, and only allowing the Classical 
details to ix*er through the modem design lis ornaments, but not as 
essential fwrts of it. It is evident that no progre^^s was to be hoi>ed for 
in such a state of mattei"s, and that the balance must Ixfore long turn 
steadily towards either originality or towards servility. 

Whether Sir John Vanbrugh derived his love of |X)nderosity from 
the Dutch blood that is Siiid to have flowed in his veins, or from some 
accident of t^xste or education, it was at least innate and ()veiix)wering. 
Whatever liis other faults may have l)een, Vanbrugh had at leiist the 
merit that he knew what he wanted ; — whether it was right or wrong 
is another cjuestion ; — and he knew also how to rcach what he aimed 
at. He never faltered in his cai'eer ; and from first to last — at Blen- 
heim and Castle Howard, as at Seaton Delaval and Orimsthorjx — there 
is one principle running through all his designs, and it was a worthy 
one — a lofty aspinition after p'andeur and eternity. In a letter age 
this might have led to infinite success ; and even in his, if applied to 


the coiisimction of inausolea or temples, where accommodation waa 
not of im|«rtance, he would certainly havu Bur]>iiBsed all his compeers. 
Bnt fate dwrecd that he should only build palaces or country seats, 
and the result has l>een a certain Hniount of gloomy frraudeur, coupled 
with something that looks very like pretentious vnlsarity. 

Blenheim waa to Sir John A'aiiliru^'li what St, Pjiul's was to Wren 
— the preal opixirtunity of liis life, nnd the work by which he will be 
judj^fed and liJs name handed down to p(»terity. Of tiie two, perhaps 
Tanbru<rh's cliance was the best. To build a monumental palace in a 
nohle park, on such a scale, and backed by the nation's pnrse, was 
at least as grand an oct:asioii as to enx.'t a metrojiolilun cathedral, 
hampered as Wren ivas by iituryical difficultiea and critical nobodies. 

jfe -- ^1 

At first sight Vanl)ni;<li would SLi-ni to have l)eeii ijnite equal to 
the task. Nothing uiii well In: grander than bis plan and the general 
conception of the whole. There is a noble garden front, 32!t ft. in 
extent, flanked on one side by the private ajiannieMts, on the otber by 
a noble library 1X2 ft. in length, and an eniraiice facade with wings, 
curving forward so as to lead up to the grand entnnice ; and lieyond 
these, great blocks of buildhigs contiiining tiie offices. Ac, all forming 
part of the design, and exieihling to 8.")0 ft. east and west. In de- 
signing his elevation he avoided all the faults that can l)e charged 
against Versailles, «bich w;is then the typical jtalace of tlie day, 
as well as the tameiiess which his ])redecessor bad introduced at 
Winchester and at Hampton Court ; yet witb all this. Itlerdielm 
cannot be called succesHful. Tlie princijiid Order is so gigantic as to 
dwarf everything near it; and as it everywbei-e covers tivo storeys, it 
is always seen to be merely an ornament. lu the eutranee-front 



uspccialt; there is sncli a confusion of lints and parts as to dvatrur that 
Impose so cseciitini to f^raiiduur, tvliile the details itre too large to Hilinit 
of their being pietiinstgue ; and though the eky-linc is pleiisiiigly 
broken, it is by fantastic and not by oonstractive elements. If we 
add to all tins that the details are ahniya badly drawn, and generally 
capriciously api>liijd, it will ha easy to understand how even so grand a 
design inay be marred. 

The design of the Park front is nnicli more succ-essfnl than that of 
tlic entrance facade, its outline being simple and grand, and the angles 
voll-aci^ntuatcd by the grjuare tower-like masses which tei'minate 
them on cither liand ; its one defect lieing the gigiintic ttnier of 
the centiv, which is as , inapjiropriate us Jlicliael Anjjelo's Onicr at 

St. Peter's, and producing tlie same dwarling and viilgiirising elTect 
Perhaps the liapjiiest jjart of the whole are the two latenil facades, 
each l!li' ft. in extent. Theii' detiiila mjiy In; a little too hirsie and 
too coai-ge for Domestic Architecture, but the proportions aiv good, 
the ornaments appropriate to their situation, and the outline pleasingly 
broken. Their blemish is the want of ujuwrent connection K'tween 
the nisticiited towers at the angles and the plain centi-e Ixiween ibeni. 
Had the lower story of the centi-e bec'U rusticated, or the rustication 
been omittwl from the upjier sttH-ey of the towers, it would lune lieeii 
easy to bring them into auc(jn.!ance ; as it is, tliey hiirdly sw^ni pints of 
the same design. 

Internally the hall is too high for its other dimensions : and the 
hbniiy, which is the finest room in the house, is desliiiyed by the 
bij;nes8 and coarseness of the details. Akogetlier the [sdaiv looks as 
if it had been designed by some Broljdingna^ian architei-t for the 



residfiice of their little Gulliver. There are many things that recall the 
fact that it is meant for the ixsideiiee of men of ordinary gtaturc, and 
as many wliich make us wonder n'hy au attempt should be made to 
peisuade us that the inhahitaiits K'ere giants. 

Castle Howard is the nest in im[x>rtaiiec of Vanbnigh's works, 
and, thonr^h erected about the aame time, ia it far mure Buccessful 
design than Bleidieim. In plan it is somewhat similar, and looks 
almost as exttnsive ; but being only one storey high over the greater 
part, it is in reality much smaller ; und its defects arise principally 
from the fact that Vanbnigh seems to liavo had no idea of how to 
ornament a building exwpt by the introduction of an Order, and to 
have had the greatest lioiTor of placiuK one Order over another ; hence 
the incongruity of his designs. If the Order of the centi-e is of the 
proper proportion, that of the wings must be too small, as the one 

Oi-der is its 1 1 early as miiy Ik.- double the liei'.dit uf the other, tlionsrh 
they are used precisely in the s:une mariner ; wliile from the jxwition 
and size of the windows we cannot help jierci'i^'ing that the rooms are 
of the same heiglit throughout. At Castle Howard the whole design 
is much soIjciiT and simpler llian that of nieiiheini. The ciiixila ill 
the centre gives dignity to the whole, and breaks the sky-line much 
more pleasingly than the towel's of the other jiidace. The wings and 
offices are more auixliied ; and on the whole, wiib all Vaubrngh's 
grandeur of conception, it lias fewer of bis faults than any other of 
his designs ; and, tjiking it all in all, it would in.- diflii'nlt to ])oiiit out 
a more imposhig eonntn'-hnuse |)osses.sed by any iioblenuiii in Eiidaiid 
than this palace of the Hnw.nils. 

He WHS much less siu'irsifnl in his smaller dwigns, su<'b as Sealon 
Delaval, Easlburi', or (!rimsihiir[)L'. as in tiiese the largeness of tlie 
pBrts and the coai-senL-ss of the details Uroine iieffwtly offcnsi\e fi-om 
the comparative sinallness of the ohjei.'ts to which they wei-e applied ; 


and, had wo only these to judf^' from, we miirlit proiiouiUT him to be a 
Buccessfiil iilaywrifjht, but wrtninly no aivliitect. Castle Howuril mid 
Blciilieini redeem him from any snc-h reproach, but it can hardly Ik 
said that even there he was diual to his opportunities, wiiieli wero 
such as seldom f-ill to the share of au arehiteet in tliis country'. 

Contemporary witli these men was Colin Campliell, a maii of no 
genius or orijiiiiaiitj, but of considerable taste, as is shown by his o*™ 
designs, pulilisiied in the 'Vitruvius Britftmiicus,' which pi-ove at all 
events that he had sufficient sense to appreciate and thorou{;hly to 
niidersttkud the principles of Ini^o Jones's school. The jiatnms of 
An;hitccture in that a};e seem, however, to have fancicti thuc they had 
pn^resscd Iteyond that Bta<re ; and as {xirtit'ovs had become the fashion, 
nothing would go down without one. In Canipiwll's desi^rns they are 
used with as much propriety and taste as the feature is well eajxible of, 
oa applied to a dwell inj^-house ; and he may be said to have tixud the 
Amresbury type as the mansion of the eishtreiith century. 

His ni(»t c'eiebrateil production was AVaiist«ad Honse, ivhich was 
long considered as the most perfect example of the class of iMirticoei.1 
houses. Though its design is certainly a mistake, still, if onir i>i'ople 
get imbued with the idea that a [Kirtico means nothing, but that it is 
so lieautiful an object in itself that they are willing their windows 
should be in(.-onveiiiently darkened in order that they may enjoy the 
dignity it confers, u |>ortico may go anywhere, and lie of any size 
nipiiivd, but it will ne\er t^-ase to be an offenc-e against all the liest 
principles of aix'iiitectur.d design. 

Tile extent of the front at Waiistead was very nearly the same as 
that of Castle Howanl (about Sdii ft,") ; but wiien we conijiaiv the two 
it nmst Iw confessed that even the Imd taste of Vardinigb is intinitely 
jireferaTile to the lameness of Campl)ell. His di«ign is elegant, hut no 
one calx's to kiok at it a second lime ; and though it ceitaitily dww not 
offend, it can hardly Ix; said to please. 

Kent' was another mther famous architect, of alwut the same 

' Bom 11^4; dioil 174H. 


calibre as Campbell but fortiinuttU fur him ht wan a fiiciid u( iUl 
Ettil of Bnrhnfrcon who «nt •\ mini of t.ihtL and HkilleU iii Vn. hittiiiire 
80 that it IS difficult to kiion on thi one hand liow miu h uf hi- di.-«iKli»> 
flhoDld be assi^ed Co tiie Etiil and oit the olhii hon fui tbt. B.11I iiuv 
ha\c Itceii assisted hx the (inKtual knoulLd^i. of hi'> diiit.iKlaiit 
Between tlicm tlity afnmted liiirlLii^oii Huiist in u iiunitci wonhi 
of the ))cst Italian arciiicetts of an tarliLi ili\ md uiili the ^nii 
circular colonnade lu front and ihi \aiions ailjutxt madt it tin. must 
elegant and artistic of ill tbetoMii niinsionsof its tinit tlumzh liaullv 

jnstifying all the pniist^ thai was lavislml on it aL the tiinc' I 
them also tliey iui)balily (L'si<:neil the iionheru I'ai'k Iniiii 
Treasury Bnild'inj.'s at \Vliituhidl. wlii./li, if .■onii.lcLccl. wonid I 
worthy of Ini<;o Jont-s than anythiii;; that has kvii doni.- thin' s 
time. The onlv dwijiii lluilwf know to lit his own is thai uf Ui 

' At pretu'Dt it JK I Filly ri'tii!irkiibl>*iiai 
cxnmpic IiihIi.™ Iiuh- lUM-il ir-lmii'tln 
cvi-n Ilic U'9t bui]>lii];;4 1>y i1ljii't|,'< 
mUitimw vt aHi-nitinii;* ; uu uj>]H'r itt<>r< 
luw U'cu add«d, iiion^ vVui nn.l witl. > 
Older taller tluiii llii.t ..11 wliii'li It r.tawi 
■luuttcrljtui-'riuli wli:it wuh t)ir pin, 
noft/Ieuf tbn bnlliliiii; : tli.>it;-h iUiti' u 
let^a Bixiidiil williinit iiny muTilii'i- r.f 0.. 
V(i>nicDCC. As if tUiB w.-rr ii;.t iii'.ii!; 
nhen a glaiw-rciiit'iil |K>n*tL uiih \t;iul<'il 
■bolter viiituM tu tli<:ir cxliiliiliim, tl 
powible forms af BluDi'-wurk — ur iru 



fimirds, which narrowly escaptd \xiuig a verj- pleaBiiij; disiKii, and at 
tlie time it wiia erected must liavu looked much l>ett«r than it does, 
bein^ now crushed l>y the larger and more important buildings on 
either hand. Its worst feature is tiie eujHila, which is lean and 
iiisi};iiiticant to the last dc<n'oe, but othenvise tiie design is varied and 
pieturesf|iie, and free from most of tiie errors and faults of the age in 
which it was erected. The design, however, would he more appropriate 
to a conutry seat of a ncblemaii tlian to ttiat of a public building ou one 
of the most favoured sites in the metropolis. 

Whether it wiis that he was more fortunate, or that he had more 

giunii than tliL two last niniul architects, Jamch (nllts' produi.ed two 
buillin^"i whiih -a\t, hmi a hi^rlitr iiositiori imonir tin. ariiBtw of his 
c'ountr\ than thl.^ liu aspire to 

J In hrsl ol thev, is tht ( hun h of st Martin s in tin 1-iekk which 
i«(t.itiinK oui. of tliL hni."tt if not tht, ha n lamest ihunhof it'* a^-e 
und tla-* rill ht\i'*t\li jxntRO of Corinthian tolninns H ft. in 
hti,:ht an i t«o inter iihiinniatmns dctp is as |itrfe< t i nprmln tion of 
tint ( liNwual h itun as (an utll Ix. made aii<1 tin. nuxk m wliiUi the 
pila<'t(is 111 ri]iiali.d lil round su Li.-»ts a Classual tinijlt, to a very 
lontiihi il k iMtnt if hl cm jicr^iiadc our^hcs not tii di^iM the 
two stoKiB )t Hill Ions Ktuiin tlitm whuh howt\er, mar tht ttfect 

11. ru Id 4 <li J 1 jl 

Chap. III. 



considerably. Internally it is a (M)ml>ination of Sir Cliristophor Wrtifs 
arrangement for St. Bride's and St. James's : hut overdone, and with 
the usual objectionable feature of a fra«rnient of an entahhiture i>lac-ed 
over each column Iwfore receiving the arch. This, as U'fore remarked, 
is frecjuently seen in Spiiin, or in Italy in tlie woi^st days of tli«j Art, 
though very rarely in France ; l)nt wherever it is iniru<lu(vd it is fatal. ^ 
It must also \)c added that the ornamentation of the roof thrimirhout is 
overdone, and not in go<Kl taste. Externally, the irreat (lef<.vt of the 
design is the mode in which the spire — in itself not ohje<'tionai»le — is 
set astride on the ix)rtico. Not only does it api>ear unmeaninirly stuck 
through the roof, but, over so oik-'U a ])ortico, has a most cnishing 
and inharmonious effect. Had it been plared alongside, as at Hlooms- 
burv, for which the situation is siiii^ularlv favourable, not onlv would 
the church have njiiched mori' nearlv the Classical ellVrt to which 
it was aspiring, but the whole romposiiion would have hern Nery much 

Gibl)s's other great work was the UadclillV- Lihraiy at Oxford. He 
perhaj)s cainiot be congratulate*! on his choice of a circular or tlomical 
form for tiie jmriKjse ; but if his employers were willing to sacrifice 
the lower storey wholly foi* the sake of giving- height lo the hiiihiing, 
and consente(] to the adoption of a form by which hardly more than 
half the accomnuMlation was obtained that might otlurwise have 
lxK!n the cfise, iie |Hirhaps was not to blame, as in so doing he has 
produced one of the most striking, and jierhaps the most pleasing, 
of the Classical buildings to be found in Oxford. Its great fault 
is that nothing in the design in the least degree indicates the 
purpose to which it was to be applied : and even after all the 
sacrifices niaile for effect, he was obliirecl to iiUnxliice two ranL''es 

* Had the arcliit(?ct« «»nlN 
had the Bciwt* to turn tho 
fragment t< )ps y t u rvy , i t 
would then lmv(; l>e«'i» ron- 
stnictively corrcKJt. It wonM, 
in fact, have becoiiK* the 
Moorish horsesluH' uroh, and, 
with H vtry sli}j:lit ino«liii. 
cation of dctaU. might liavo 
lost mucli of itH ot)(>n.-?ivo 
character, while it would 
have ranged as well with 
anything on the waU. Of 
conr»e any feature invented 
for the place wouhl have 
l>een l>etter than eith<r : but 
if Classical fenturen mii8t he 
used, it 18 best that it nliould 
lie done so that thev wliall 
be as constructive as the 
form will admit of. 

If*!:'. Diagram allowing the v.tfect >if reversing the •nt.iblaturo 

in a pillar. 


of wiiiii')"s l>c'tn-ecii tlic eoltiniiis. The |>roi>ortioii«, liowevcr, of tlie 
wliolc- 1111; fTOOil, thu ilttuils H|)])ro])riaCi' to tliuir plHcwi, him! well 
dranni, ho tliiit, the huil(liii<f \\as ii iiioiuiineiitnl and ele^iiiit look of 
wliieli its iiifliitwt iiii^ht well Ix' prouii. 

Tliu iiuist siiccessfiil HR-hitect of the hitter half of tlie eighteenth 
oeiitiiry wns Sir IVilJiiim Chiimliers,' and lie was fortunate in hnvhif; 
an "|i|M)r(miiiy of (Iis|iliiyin^' his tulerits in the erwtion of Somerset 
Honse, which was nndouhtedlv the greatest ar(.'hitectnnil work of the 
ii-Lv'ii of lleorjre the Thinl. 

The hest jwrt of the (Ifsi-rii is tlie north or Strand front, which is 
an enlar^nl and imjinni-d i-ojiy of a jmrt of the olil juihui- hnill by 
Iiiiiro Jones,* and intlkil linwn to make way for the new biiildiiipi. 

■p liti-™lly ni>ruduced in (In: Cuunty Fire Office, 


Tht width of tliix front is l;ii ft., its ln'itrhi 62, or ne«rly otii: Iialf, mid 
it consists of a Iwld rustituiud iMist-iiiL-iit stnriT inovi; tliaii S.i ft. in 
hc'itrht, iiup))ortinv a niiifru of clirucMiuartLT Ooriiithiau i-oliiniiis, whicli 
aro designed and moddkil witli tin: utmost purity imd (■nn'wtni'M ; 
but wf Clin hanlly liflp rojrrL-niuf: thm two stiiiTvs of windows shoidd Id- 
inuludml in tliis Order, 'i'lit- iirniUfn.-nK'iit, l[Oivi;\fr, is so usual and 
80 thonmghly En^disli, that, from lialiic. it cciisos to l^-conii; offwisivL- : 
and ivlicre tliu nlidu is triMttii wlili suvh tiistL-, m in this instani'i;, it 
eeenis ulntoet nnobjtiaioiialik'. Tlic thrit- an^iiw in iW wuin, which 
fonn tin; untrunco into ihi- couriyard. im;n[iy i|uili; as niui'h of the 
facade a-t oufrht to In.- !1|i]iiii| trial i^d to tlilw |nir|K)Sf, and constitntu a 
BUtliduntly di;;nititil ajiproai^li lo tlit- couriyard lH-yci[i<l. 

The s<mtli front of iliis iH)niiin of tiii' siniclur.> is also exiroinL-ly 
pleasin;;: it is so limkfn as to '/[yi- uTfat ]>!ay of Hiilii atid sliiidr, thus 
prcvvntiu^' t-ithw the details or luimlifr of jsiris froiu iiiiix-'iirin-r loo 
BmaJI for iht.- ]iiiiixjsfs to whicli tiicy ar.,- u]>]iH<il. Thi' frrcat uri-as, 
too. to tilt riirlit iiiid luft of the iturarur, aiT an iniTiimsv advani;ii.% as 
they allow tlLu two sinik stonys to U- uddcd to thf lu'i^'iil of the uhoK-. 

'tIk- siuue iiniise .■iiOTiot W ;iHanle<l [o the other sides of the e..nrt. 
wliicli eonaist "f h!"-ks of laiiMinir of -J77 aiLd I'l'f fi. resjieriivL-ly, 
and, hfiu^ under .'I'l ft. in hei.irln, atv )iro|iiirtioiiai.ely nuLeh lower than 
the entnince-lihK-k just, arid far too h)iv for their leii;.'lh. 
They are U-sidw tmitwl with a si^verity gjnKnlarly nnsapiilitnl. 
Except small siKiees in the centre and at the extre-iiii lies, the whole is 


nisticated, even above the level of the upper windows. Such a mode 
of treatment might be excusiible in an exterior of iKild outline, tliougli, 
even then, hardly in conjunction with a Corinthian Order : but a court- 
yard is necessarily a mezzo-tennine Initwecn a room and an exterior^ 
and it would generally Ihj more excusable to treat it as if it niiirht Ixi 
roofed over, and so converted into an interior, than to desiL^i it with 
the cold severity which is so offensive here. 

The river front, however, was CliamlKirs's great opportunity : but it 
unfortunat<ily shows how little he was ecjual to the task he had under- 
taken. To treat a southern facade nearly (>0() ft. in extent, in the same 
manner as he had treated a northern one onlv 1:^2 ft. lonir, would 
have l)een alK)ut as great a blunder as an architc*(;t ever made. In 
order to producAi the same harmony of effect, he ought to have exagge- 
rated the size of the jKirts in something like the Siune j)rop<)rtion : but 
instead of this, both the Ivasement and the Order are K'tween one-third 
and one-fourth less than those of the Strand front, though so similar as 
to deceive the eye. As if to make this ca})ital defect even more api>a- 
rent than it would otherwise have Ikjcu, he i)la(?ed a terrace 4(5 ft. wide, 
and of about two-thirds of the height of his main building, in fri)nt of it. 

It is thus no wonder that it looks hardlv as hiirh, and is not more 
dignified than a terrace of ])rivate houses in the Regent's Park, or 
elsewhere. This is the more inexcusable, as he had 1<h» ft. of elevation 
available from the water's edge, without adding one incli to the lieight of 
his buildings, which was more than sufficient for arciutectural effect, if 
he had known how to use it. E\ en with the terrace as it is, if he had 
brought forward the wings, only to the edge of the teiTace, and thrown 
his centre back oO or loo ft., he would have imju'oved the court im- 
mensely,^ and given variety and height to the river front, and then, 
either with a cu]X)la or some higher featuixj in the centre, the worst 
defects of the building might have been avoided. 

It was evident, however, that the imagination of ChjimlR'Ts <H)uld 
rise no higher than the conception of a sijuare, un}K)etic mass ; and, 
although he was one of the most correct and |minstaking architects 
of his century, we cannot regret that he was not employed in any 
churches of imi)ortance, and that the nobility do not strm to have 
iwtronised him to any great extent. lie had evidently no grasp of 
mind or inventive faculty, and little knowledge of tlie priiKJiiles of 
Art l>evond what miirht l)e jralhered from the works of Viirnola and 
other writers with reirard to the use of the Ordei*s. This niav iirixluce 
correctness, but commonplace designs can l)e the only result, and this 
is really all that can W siiid of tlie works of Sir William ChaniU-rs. 

* A Bomewhutsimilairtri'utiiitnt ti)that I*<iiu«'thunn', with tho liuppij^t rfi«ult, 
liere indicutt'd, was b<>m«' years auo aji- thouiyrh, eviii in that liDiitcfl tai;a»lt', tlu^ 
plied to the western fft<;ade hy Sir Jamt-s Onler ih t<:o low for its iKittitiou. 



The architects who, in tlw hitter half of the ei{rhtwiith c-eiitun-, 
enjoyed lire patronage of the nobility tn the jrreat«st extent, were the 
broiliera Adam, who, after the inihlit-ation by IlolKirt' of his frreut 
work on .Spalatro, ac<]iiireil a nrpiite for a kiiowlwljft: of ClnBsical Art 
which their buildinfrti by no means justified, as in this respect they 
were certainly inferior even to Chanibcra. Their trreat mmi — if merit 
it be — Ib. that they stamped tlieir works with « certain amount of 
oripnality, which, had it been of a better ijuaiuy, luijfht have done 
8omet)iin<! to emancipate Art from its tranunels. Tiie principal 
characieristic of their style was tliu introihietion of viTV larjre windows, 
generally without dresKinirs. These they fn.«itiently attem|>tfd to {^oup, 

three or more tojietlier. by u ^twii i:lii»;i] iirch uvit 
and make the whole side of a housi: l<«jk like mk- 
they did use Ol.iiwical Onleis or uniiuneins, tlirv ivi 
and most tawdry class. Tliu fii(,';ide of tliu .Vssenibly 
is one of the very liest siK-ciniL'tis of ilicir style, 
defects tlwui most of iheir iiesi;fiis. In Ijoiidon. llier 
called from beiiiir the creatiuii of the four bnitlien 
Fitzroy S(inare, wlieiv all tliuir ]Ki:tiliantics come inl 
designed Portland PlutT and Finshury SjUare, In I 
their Jjeculiar nioilf of fencsl r:H ions is [iiiinfully h\>\<m 

(if lliu lliinnest 

he Adelphi, 

. Tliey ii 
U;r of wli 

' bi.r: 





The most important pultlic buililiiifr iiilmsted to thiir care ivim the 
Colli'^ at Editibiirj:)!, the rebuilding tif which wat! (.'omiiiuiiccil in 
I7H!', from a design hy Rolwrt Adam. Only the eiitmiife front, how- 
ever, mciisnring ^o5 ft. north and sonth, was eomitleted in their day. 
The central conrt was added about forty years ago, from a dwifrii by 
Playfair. Tlic )«rt erected by Adam is fonr storeys in height, without 
the leaht attempt at coni-eaiment, and with a comifC at the top, tlie 
otdy fanit of wliieh is, tliat it la not sufficiently bold fur iUi position. 

The centre is pierc«d by tliree bold arches ; those oti the sides are 
each of them adorned by two monolithic pillars of the Dori)^ Oiiler, 
measuring i^G ft. in height. The whole composition of the centre 
is iKild and oniameiita), without any feature so gigantic as to crush the 

wings or to iiveq>oH'c-r the other jisirts. It is, unfonnnately 
in so narrow a street, that it can iiowheiv lie |iri>iierly seei 
wants a little nioiv ornankiit to ivitch the eye. lint ne ]m 
imblio buildings ]iresi'iiting so trnihful and so well-iwlancixl a 
this, ami eerluinly the Adams ne\er erected anything else v 
nearly so satisfactory. 

Among the ci>uiiiry houses which they buili, iKTlia]is ti 
Hiuressful pi-oduciion is Keddlestoiie, in Herbyshiiv, ehielly n 
for the pleitsiiig manner in which fonr great bl<K-ks (if bnlldii' 
form the wings, aif joined to the eentjv by !H.'ndeiii'ular ci 
a))iied afterwaiils in tiie (ioveniiiicut Mouse at Calentta. 
n-s|ieets the ilesigii is according to the usual ivijn' — a 
Corinthian tionieo, standing on a riistieate< 

ind it 



lai^ and three bodrouin wiiiilun-x mi eiuli s'nh, but with the {iiizzlin^f 
pecniiaritj of having no wiudoutt iii the cuiiin; uii cither fuce, ilie liiill 
Iwing lighted eutirely from tlie ronf, hihI tlie only (Miriiimriinitiiin 
between the two Bidea of tlic himse iiiwHiirs \k]h<! by a cdiicealed 
j)«8Ba(re under the roof of tlie imrtico,' 

Harewood House, iit Yorksliiif, liy Ciirr of York, is ii fiir ln-tler, 
because a more honest and sintiifhtfnrwui-d Kiiecimeri. of clicsi' jioriieoed 
houses of the last century. They ari', in fact, so niiuicrons and xo 
thoroughly English and nriRttK-ralir. thikt one is inclineil m nverliMik 
their defects of stvle in (■onseijneiii.-e of tlieir rii!i>ectnhility and the 
aRsociations they call \\]t. h jh inn<'li niore satisfai'lory tu r<)nu'ni|il»te 
their easily undei-stixxl an-iin^'iTtti-nls [lian the iuirenions |iu/7.1e of 
such a design as that of Holkluun, wliere we are left [u .■(injii-inre 
whether the nohlu hiwt and liiwtess slcej) iii a UiirtHun 4ii fi. Iiigh, or 
are relegated, like llieir ^ni^sis, lo a piiTui or lui oitthouse. or jn-rlaqw 

may have their iieilnidni «i(idci\vs tm-ned iti«;inls mi a lr;i' 
this may snHif-e to dis[il;iy the )Hrii'ivi' itJL'vnnily (if ilii' •■ 
trying to jiro-lmr a mDnunn'nuil wlmli': Km Imtli \\if jiin 
his guests woulii in itir loni: rnti ].r<il,ahly [.r.f.'r n>i>ins <,f 
dimensions, and s.j sitiiaU-.i as lo ..njoy liic view <if i.liv s.-'- 
park, or the fivsli lnvews of ln.-iiv>*n. 

There were |>rolpiil.|y m least a roiij'le of hnndn-il of 
manorial mansions i.T^'U'd in Knirlarid and Smiland dnrini; 
of the eiglitc-enth iTnrin-y : — i\m\- ihan im- luuidred aiv de 
illufWrateil in tlie • Vimivins iiritannii'us." Nitie-tcnrlis of i 
stone; one-liatf at least liave |-)rn(-(«.'s : ami all liavt- jui 
aR'hite<'tmid desiirn in one form or otlier. Vel anions ll 

I Hat. .A 
iri'latect i 

' Ih. Joliawiri's .l..,-^ri[itir.T, i.f tlii- 
bnilJiii^ omTtj's hh imri'ii :iii iiUa ni its 
p' riiliurilii!- us rua wtlt )''- l><uii<l :oiv. 
whfw. " It<l," lie »:>%■-. ■■ .1.1 •acA- 
Icnlly W.11 for ii Hie l„rs,- 
loom Willi tl«' |.il1«re w.iiM il.. tlu' 
juildw to hit ill Bl till- ivnzc: thr nn'tilHr 
rofvi for u jiiry-rliuiiiti<:r, alid tliu nxiiii 



Book IV. 

them tliere is not one which will stand comparison for a moment 
with the grandeur of the Florentine palaciis, the splendour of those of 
Rome, or the elegance of those of Venice. Their style is the same, 
their dimensions are equal, their situations generally superior ; but 
from one cause or other they have all missed the effect intended to be 
produced, and not one of them can now l)e looked upon as an entirely 
'satisfactory specimen of Architectural Art. 

Rol)ert Taylor^ was the architect who made a larger fortmie than 
any of his professional brcthren at the end of the last century, though, 
judging from his buildings at the Bank of England and elsewhere, 
there was ver}' little in his art to justify the patronage that was 
bestowed on him. In this respect he seems to have been inferior to 
the city architect, Dance, who, in the Mansion House, produced a 
building, not certainly in the purest taste, but an effective and 
gorgeous design ; and, Inifore it lost the two cro\\iiing masses which 


Fafadc <»f Uulkhaiu Huuse. 

carrietl tlu? building to a height over loo ft., it rcjilly stood proudly 
and well c)ut of tht! suiTonnding masses. Ilis chef-d\euviv, however, 
was tile design for tlie prison at Newgate, which, though only a 
prison, and jwetending to l)c nothing else, Ls still one of the l)est 
publi(? buihlings of the metroi)olis. 

It attained this eminence by a pr(Kx*ss whirh amounts as much to 
a discovery on the part of its architect as Columbus's celebrat^Kl 
invention of niiiking an efi\:^ stand on its end. Hy sim])ly setting 
his mind to think of the iku^kwcs to which his buihling was to l)e 
apju'opriated, without turning aside to think of Git?cian temi)les or 
Gothic castles, a very second-rate architect }>roduced a veiy |K.»rfect 
builduig. There is nothing in it but two great windowless blocks, 
each i)o ft. Sipiarc', and Initween them a very commonplace gaoler's 
residence, live windows wide, an<l live storeys high, and two simple 
entrances. With tliese slight materials, he has made up a fa<,'ade 
207 ft. in extent, and Siitistiod every rcijuisite of goinl aR'liite<.aure. 
If any architeia would only design a church or ])alace on the same 
principles on which old George Dance designed Newgate, or as an 

» horn 1714; dial 1788. 



en;;iiieer designs a briil}^!, hu would be aBtoiiifllieil b) find hon* ttimplu 
the art of Archit«cttiiv is, iiiul how tiaay it id to do ri<;hl, uiid liow 
difficult to do wnm;;, wht-ii hoiiustlj- liuiit on oxpix-ssiii^ tliu truth, 
und tiw trutli only. From «-lmt \vu know of iKiiiw'w fhanitter, we 
am led to stispcct tlint. it niuy have k'tri nicn; i>rnoniii<.-t tliat U'd Itlni 
to lio right on tliJB (niOHnioii, but it \u\s just lliis ninoniii of ijriioruiitt! 
which enabled evcrj' villn-ri/ .irtliittHt in vwvy jsm of En^lund to 
produce those jierfwt chiiiTln,-s which oiu' f!L'\fif(it and l«.-st wliirated 
urchiteiTtfl fiuil difficulty in (.'ojiyinj:, and a.'tinx-ly even diviim of 



With the commonceineiit of the pa^sent century a new feeling came 
over the sj)irit of ai^'hitectural desitrn, which, as snjri^esteil alK)ve, it 
may U* convenient to distinjruish by the name of Revival ; imtsmuch 
as it differs essentially from the principles that ^aiided the architects 
of the Renaissiince. 

St. PeierV and St. Paul's, thouf]:h using Classical details, and these 
onlv, aiv still essentiallv Christian chui'ches : the Escurial and Yer- 
saillw aiv the residences of kings of the age in which they weiv 
built, and <h> net pivtend to be anything else. No one could ever 
mistake St. Peter's for a Roman Temjile : and Versailles is as unlike 
the Palace of the Ciesars as any two buildings could well Ik' ; and 
so it is throughout the three centuries during which the Renaissance 
was ju'actised. Hut the Walhalla pretends to Ix; tin absolute and 
literal re]»roductiou of the Parthenon : so does the Madeleine of a 
Roman Temple ; iind the aiX'hitect has failed in his endeavoui's if you 
aiv able to <letect hi St. Oeorire's Hall, Liverpool, any feature which 
would lead you to supix)sc the building might not l)elong to the age 
of Augustus. 

This is even moiv pointedly the case with the now fashionable 
Gothic style. The Gothic of AVivn and his contem])oraries was merely 
the last dying e(*ho of a gnind natural phenomenon which had so long 
been reverlK?niting tiu*ough th(i national mind, that it was slow to 
die away. The ivvived (Jothic is more like the thunder of the stage, 
got up with all the l)est ai>pliances of Art. and meant to strike with 
awe and excite admiration in the nund of the sinrtator : and though 
the tnie (iothic style is one of the most U^autiful and [K-rfect of man's 
creations, its coi>y has very little either of the spirit or the merit of 
the original. Nevertheless an aivhitei't is at once condemned if, in 
any of the numerous churches now l)eing erected, he introduces any 
feature or omits any detail which would lead you to susj)ect that liLs 
building is not a chun'h suited for the Roman Catholic ritual, and 
su(!h as might have lH.'en erected during the four centuries that pre- 
ceded the death of Ileurv VII. 


The division of the architects into two sejmnite scliools, one fol- 
lowing the pure Greek, the other the literal (Tothic, is another most 
imjiortant feature which distinjjruishes the Revival fnnn the Renais- 
Hiiice. It is literallj iniix>s8ible that any man or set of men can 
continuonsly profess to obtain two diametrically o}>|>o8ite sets of 
results, if reasoning from any one set of well-i*ec()giiLsed principle's ; 
but when reasoning is entirely put on one side, and mei^* imitation 
substituted, it becomes easy. The architects of the Rcnaissjince had 
a distinct principle before them, which was, how to ada])t Classicid 
details so as to make them sul servient to mcMlern paqK)ses. To do 
this always ixijuired thought and invention on their jwirt, — more, in 
fact, than they frecjuently could su])ply. If the Revival anthitects 
have a j>rinciple, it is that nKwleru purposes should l>e made sul)- 
servient to foivufone aifiiitectural stvles. As the Chunih, at the 
instigation of the Revivalists, has consented to U'conie pseudo-Catholic 
in externals in order that its architects mav Ik* Siived the trouble of 
thinkinj:, theix.* is now no ditticnltv, in so far as Kcclesiast ical Archi- 
tectuiv is concerned. When town-eouncill(>rs are willing to s|>end 
money that thev may Ik.' lodiied like Honian senators, all is easy there 
too: and an architect only reijui res to possess a good library of illus- 
trated works in order t(» (lualifv himself for any task he mav be called 
iijKm to un<leriake. 

It is not dilhcult to trace the steps l)v which, in this country at 
least, the change took place. The publication of Dawkins jind Wood's 
* Illustrations of Palmvra and Haalbec.* in 17")i>, first u'ave the English 
public a taste for Roman magnilicmce, undiliiird by Italian design. 
Adam's ' Spalatro,' jmblished tm years afterwards, increased the 
feelinir, and irave its author an o])]M)rtuiiii v which he so stranirely 

^ ^ I ill ■ •" 

threw awav. But the works which reallv and ]K.'rniaiienilv atViHied 
the taste of the (.'ountry were the splendid series which comnicnc^ed 
by the ])ublication of the Hrst volnnie of StuartV 'Athens,' in 17(12, 
was continued by the Dilettanti Society, ami, after ilie lapse of nearly 
a centiUT, was worthily coni])leted bv the iniblication, in iSdo. of 
Cockerell's * Researches at Kgina and Hassie,' and Penrose's survey 
of the Rartheiion in the same year. 

ThouLfh Stuart practised as an architect after his return from 
Greece, he does not seem to have met with nnich jmtronage, nor did 
he then succeed in introducing his favourite style practically to his 
coimtrvmen. The trtith was that, with all its beaiuies, the (Grecian 
Doric is singularly untractable and ill-suite<l to modern ])tirix)ses ; 
and, so long as the ])rin(.u])les of the Renaiss^nice prevailed, it could 
not be api>lied. It was, however, the l)eauty of this style, and the 
desire to ]X)ssess exam]>les of it, created by the euthiLsiasm which 
the iK)ssession of the Elgin marl>les raiscrd in this country towards 
evervtliing that savoured of the age of Pericles, which eventually led 



to the substitution of the principles of the Revival for those of the 

Once the fashion was introduced it became a mania. Thirty or 
forty years ago no building was complete without a Doric portico, 
hexastyle or octastyle, prostylar or distyle in antis ; and no educated 
man dared to confess ignorance of a great many very hard words 
which then l)ecame fashionable. Churches were most alflicted in this 
way ; next to these came Gaols and County Halls, — but even Railway 
Stations and Panoramas found their best advertisements in these 
sacred adjuncts ; and terraces and shop-fronts thought they had 
attained the acm6 of elegance when either a wooden or plaster 
caricature of a Grecian Order suggested the Classical taste of the 
builder. In some instances the founders were willing to forego the 
commonplace recimsites of light and air, in order to carry out their 
Classical aspirations ; but in nine cases out of ten a slight glance 
round the corner satisfies the spectator that the building is not erected 
to contain a statue of Jupiter or Minerva, and suffices to diajjel any 
dread that it might be devoted to a revival of the impmx* worship of 
Heathen deities. 

The whole device was, in fact, an easily-detected sham, the ab- 
surdity of which the Gothic architects were not slow in availing 
themselves of. "If," they said, "you can copy Grecian temples, we 
can copy Christian churches ; if your ]>orticoes are beautiful, they 
belong neither to our religion nor to our country ; and your steeples 
are avowedly unsightly, your churches barus, and the whole a mass 
of incongruities. Ours are harmonious throughout, suited to Christian 
worship and to our climate ; every pirt ornamentiil, or cai)iil>le of 
ornament without incongruity ; and all suggestive of the most appro- 
priate asscxiiations." 

The logic of this appeal was irresistible, so far at least as churches 
were concerned : the public admitted it at once, and were right in doing 
so. If copying is to l)e the only principle of Art, — and the Grecian 
architects have themselves to blame that they forge<l that weapon 
and put it into the hands of their enemies, — there is an end of the 
controversy. It is better to copy Gothic, when we nuist do so literally, 
than to copy Greek. But is copying the only end and aim of Art ? 

If it is so, it is hardly worth the while of any man of ordinary 
ability to think twice about the matter. Nothing either gi'eat or good 
was ever yet done without thought, or by mere imitation, and there 
seems no reason to lK*lieve that it ever will Ikj otherwise. The only 
hope is tliat the absurdity of the present practice may lead to a reac- 
tion, and that Architecture may again become a real art, practised on 
some rational Ijasis of common sense. 

There are very few churches in England, built during the jK'riod of 


the Revival, in the Classical styles of Architecture, inasmuch as, 
before the demand for extension of church accommodation began to 
be extensively felt, the Gothic styles had come into vogue for the 
purpose. It may also l)e added, that the churches which were then 
built were very much after the old pattern ; — a portico, of more or 
less pretensions, with a spire resting on its ridge, — the only novelty 
introduced being that, instead of a conical spire, an egg-shaped cupola 
was fre<|uently introduced as more correct ; though, like most compro- 
mises, it failed in accomplishing the desired object. 

The new chm-ch of St. Pancras, built between the years 1819 and 
1822, may be taken as a t}7)ical example of this class, and, in its 
details a^ least, goes further to reproduce a Grecian Temple than any 
other church we ix)ssess. The selection of the Order employed in its 
construction was, however, very ' unfortunate, as the extreme delicacy 
of the (irecian Ionic is neither suited to our climate nor to so large 
a buildin«r as tiiis ; and details which were approprmte to an Order 
under ;^>o ft. in height, become inaj)propriate when applied to one a 
third larger. The worst feature of the whole design is, however, the 
steeple. The idea of putting a small Temple of the Winds on the top 
of a larger one was a most unfortunate way of designing a steeple, 
and it was a still greater solecism to place this combination over so 
delicate a ]>ortico as that used at 8t. Pancras. The introduction also 
of the caryatid ]X)rtico on either flank, where they are crushed by the 
expinse of plain wall to which they are attached, was another very 
grave error of jndgment. Putting on one side for the present all 
question as to the propriety of adopting Classical details for Clu-istian 
purposes, it still was an unpardonable mistake to arrange in a formal 
monumental building of the dimensions of this church the elements 
of a small, elegant, and playful design, like the Temple of ^linerva 
Polias at Athens, and a still greater one to select so delicate an Order 
for employment in om* climate, to which the Roman Orders were at 
least more appropriate. All these causes led to St. Panciras new 
church iHiinjr acknowledged a failure ; and as it cost nearly 70,000/,, 
it contrihuted more than any other circumstance to hasten the reac- 
tion towards the Gothic style which was then becoming fashionable, 
litternallv the building is verv much better than it Ls externallv. 
The difficulty of the galleries is conquered, as far as possible, by 
letting their sup|)orts stop at their under side ; and all the other 
arrangements are such as are a])propriate to a Protestant church of 
the first class. 

There are several other churches in the metroix)lis and its neigh- 
bourhood, such as those at Kennington and Norwood, which aim at 
equal purity of Hellenism in style, though less ambitious in design 
and detail. They are now, however, all admitted to have failed in the 
attempt to amalgamate the elements of Greek Art ^vith the require- 


mcnts of a ProUrstant clmrcli in our cliimitc. It is, thtn-finv, of little 
use adding further criticism to what luis alR'siily Kt-ii upon 
them ; nor is it nc-ct-sairy to uiiiimLTutw tho chnrc'hfs iii similar styles 
erected in the provinofs. The fiisliiou ]ubsu<1 us iiuickly as it iinee, 
and has acarofiy left any iKTrntinciit imprtiis on tbu EtrlwiastiL-al 
Architectitre of tlit age. 

Tumiiif: to Si-cnlar Art, wo find Sir .John Sitnuf ' ns one of the 
mrliest and most snwL'SBfiil artliiifcts of the Ruvival. On his return 
from studying in Italy, lie was, in ]7f*K, apitointtil aifhiiLi-c to the 
Hank of Eiijrland : and durinj: the rest of his life was iHrnpied in 
(sirryiii^' ont the rehnilding of that institiitLem, wliieh was cunnneiiceil 
there shortly after his appointment. This fjTaifc desi;,'n was the siihject 
of his hfe-long study, and that hy whiuU [losterity will judge of Jiia 

■ Bum IToO; diol 1S37. 

Chap. IV. 



The task proposed to him on this occasion was very similar to that 
undertaken by Dance in designing Newgate — to produce an imposing 
pubhc building without any openings towards the street. But though 
the latter succeeded perfectly in his design, it is very doubtful how far 
the same praise can be awarded to Soane. 

In the first place, it was an unpardonable mistake to adopt an 
Order less than 30 ft. high, and standing at one angle on the ground, 
as the ruling feature of such a design. From the fall of the ground 
the Lothbury front is about 6 ft. higher, — but even then a height of 
36 or 40 ft. along an unbroken front of 420 ft. is disproportioned in 
comparison with Dance's 50 ft. in height along a facade of 300 ft., 
which, besides, is broken into three well-defined masses. The mis- 
take is the less excusable here, as the Bank was and is surrounded by 
baildings so high as to dwarf it still more, and to neutralise, both in 
appeanince and in reality, that feeling of security for which the whole 
design has l)een sacrificed. It would have been so easy to remedy 
this, either by raising the whole on a teiTiice-wall, with a slight 
batter some 20 ft. in height, — in which case some or all of the blank 
A\indows, which are now supposed to be ornjynents, niij:ht have been 


Ea-st Elevaiiun of tUe Bank of England. 

Opened, to the great convenience of the occuiMints, as well as to the 
im])rovement of the apixjarance of the building externally ; or he 
might, with a very slight alteration, have used the present block as 
such a terrace ; and, at least over the centre of each front, have raised 
an upper storey, which would have given dignity and variety to the 
whole. After these faiUts of conception, the worst feature of the 
design is the grand entrance, which, strange to say, is only an 
ordinary three-storeyed dwelling-house, through two small doors on 
the ground floor of which you enter this gi'and building ! On the 
other hand, the recessed colonnades which flank it, and ornament the 
centre of the ea.stern front, are as pleasing features for the puri)Ose as 
have ever been a(loj)ted in a mo lern Classical building : and, if an 
Order was to l)e copied literally — which the new sehool insisted 
should be the case — Soane was fortunate in the selection of the Tivoli 
example for this purpose. The cin.'ular colonnade at the north-west 
angle is a very pleasing sj)ecimen of design, as well as most api)ro- 
priate in overcoming the acuteiiess of the angle. But the most 
pleasing y^rt of the whole is the Lothbury Court, which, though 


small, and having an unfinished look in some parts, is perhaps the 
mo8t elepmt to be found in this country. 

In the rest of the interior, as well as in most of his other designs, 
Soane affected an originality of form and decoration, which, not being 
based on any well-understood constructive principle, or any recognised 
form of beauty, has led to no result, and to us now appears little less 
than ridiculous. Still, he took so much pains, and bestowed so much 
thought on some of his designs, — such, for instance, as the staircase to 
the old House of Lords — some parts of his own house — the dome of 
the National Debt Office, and some others, — that it is most discouraging 
to find that, when a man with such talents as Soane undoubtedly 
possessed deviated from the beaten path, he should have been so 
unsuccessful. It probably may have been that he was crotchety and 
devoid of good sound taste ; but it is a strong argument in the 
hands of the enemies of progress to find such a man succeeding when 
copying, and faiUng when he attempted originaUty. 

Holland, Burton, Nash, and one or two others, formed a group of 
architects who certainly have left their impress on the Art of their 
countrv, thoujrh whether or not thev advanced the cause of true Archi- 
tecture is not (juite so clear. Tlie first-named introduced a certain 
picturesque mode of treating the Classicjil styles, Avhich promised 
favourable results, and in his Carlton House certiiinly was effective. 
The liist-nanied was in feeling a land8C4i])e-gardener, and carried 
Holland's principles to their extremest verge. The thR-e devoted 
themselves more especially to Street and Domestic Architecture : and 
with the aid of a few columns stuck here and there, or rich window 
dressings and rustications in another phure, and aided by the fatal 
facility of stucco, they managed to get over an immense amount of 
space with a very slight exjDenditure of thought. Although none of 
their buildings will stand the test of sejiarate examination, to these 
architects is due the merit of fR^cing us from the dreadful monotony 
of the Baker Street style. We Ciin no longer consent to live l)ehind 
plain brick walls with oblong holes cut in them ; and for this we 
cannot ha too grateful. 

These men were all more or less true to the old Classic^il school of 
Art, though occasionally they indulged in a little bad (Jothic, and 
their Classical designs were more or less tinged with the feelings of 
the new lloniantic school. Wilkins was probably the first wlio really 
asjurcd to pre-eminence in botli styles. Wliile he Wiis building the 
severely Classical College of Downing at Cambridge, he was also 
building the incturescjue Gothic New Court at Trinity College in the 
Siinie univei'sily ; and while he wils erecting his chef-d'anivre, the 
poitico of the Univei'sity College, Oower Street, he was the author of 
the new buildings at King's College, Cambridge. It is al)surd to su]v 
pose he could be sincere in both, if he knew what ARhitecture was ; but 


the fettliiifiB of his huirt so far aa \\l can jml^c wtn, toHtinls tin pure 
GrciJf itid 111 tlic jKirtiLo in Gower Strttt ht hiis Ltrtaiii^ produied 
tht most plummy sjiLiniitn of itR c.liu«s which has M,t Ijttn iitttinptud 
III this country Tin. -tjlohate is siruulailj itLimtiful ind mil jiio- 
portiontd tht Onkr ilstlf is faiiltltjsH, Ixjth m dttail iiid is to tht, 
maiititr in winch it stands and the dome sits most ^mwtiilh on 
the whoh iini) IS Itself im iileasin^ in oiithne and detiil is ui\ that 
over H 11 trcittd in modern time's it !i ist It ib true tlic (loieh is 
too Ur^e for the hinldin.f to which it is attat hed hut this arises from 
the wiTu-s, whuh were m usseiitiU jkirt of the oniiiiial desi^'n, not 
hating he-en completed It is true also thit it is tisek'SH lint so la a 
Gothic steeple and nc must not iipph the utilitarian tost too eloscly 
to works of \rt If it were dc-sirud to make the hiiildiiifi both iiionu 
mental and urnainental, it would not be e-ast to do it at lees cost, 
either in moiiej or eiMneiiieiice, than is attained b) the arraiureiULnt 
adopted at Lni\crBit> Collcffe 

It Is to !« re^'rettwi that this buildiiisi is so little seen and that 
'WilkinsH staiidiii^' aa m architect must „enei dij lie jiidjcd b^ Ins 
haMii^'' hxl the had fortune to ohtain the priite of beiit^^ chosen to 
erect. Ill the National tialler}, one of our lai^'est ]itibhe builihii^ tiid 
on the finc-Bt site in thi: metro]K)hs I nforCuiinteh foi his fame the 
prize WIS coupled with such conditions as to iindci luccfss nearly 
imposHible The inone^ allotted to the piirjxM. Has scarcely one-half 
of what was nectssarj he was ordered to take and use the pillara of 


the |X)rtico of Carlton House ; to set back the wings, so as not to hide 
St. Martin's Church ; and, lastly, to allow two thoroughfares tln-ough 
it I He failed, and we pay the penalty. And most justly so ; 
because we know tliat Wilkins had talent enough to ei^ect a creditable 
building if he liad had fair play ; but the public thought proper to 
impose conditions which rendered his doing so next to impossible. 
The sad result to the architect is well known ; but on a fair review of 
the circumstances it does not api)ear that he was to blame for the 
painful failure in Trafalgar Square. 

If the British Museum is not more successful than the National 
Gallery, it certainly is not so from the same causes. No archit<jct 
ever had a fairer chance than Sir Robert Smirke had heixj. The 
ground was fi'e') of all encumbrances ; the design long and carefully 
elaborated l)efore execution ; and money supplied without stint. If 
the buildings there have cost a million sterling, which is under the 
mark, it is no exaggeration to say that h.alf that sum at least has been 

199. Plan vf the rortlco of the British Museum. Scale 100 feet to 1 Inch. 

spent in orniuucnt and ornamental arrangements, and at such detri- 
ment to convenience that already they are l>eing abandoned, in spite 
of the money wliich has been wasted njwn them. The courtyard to 
which the whole building was sacrificed Ls already gone, and the 
portico is voted a public nuisance : though it will not be so easily got 
rid of as the other. Nothing, in fact, can well be more absurd than 
fortv-four useless columns, following: the sinuosities of a modern 
fa(;ade, and finishing round the corner ; — not bec^mse the design is 
complete — for, according to the theory on which the i>ortico is de- 
signeil, they ought to be continued along both flanks, — or lxM.*ause 
they abut on any building, — but siini)ly becmise the ex))ense would 
not allow of its l>eing caiTied further. At the Siime time, almost as if 
to prove how conducive to want of thouirht this system of designing 
is, the principil staiix'ase of the Museum, lighted from the roof, is 
place<l to the north in a situation which affords the best light for 
a sculpture galleiT of any in the Museum ; and a sculptiu-e gallery, 
lighted l)y side windows, is placed facing the south, where its light 
is almost entirely shut out by the shadows of the portico. Even if 


it is WHiteinkHl that tins 13 ii jilfasiny: olijuct in iUelf, it ran only be 
coDRiiU'Rtl us >i iiuiiiaiKT ami nil ai>siirdity in the citnation in which 
it is iiliii-cil. .18 if to make uuitters worst;, ii sjilundit! "grille" lius 
bwii erui'tL'd in fruiit, so iiijrh und ko nirjr tiiu sjifctiitor, thut, as sLttn 
from tlif sti\i.'i, tlic iron wall is liislier and ninrc ini|xjrtant than tlie 
colon Mi id u. Had the f.Tille Ijeen t-an'ied Imck Ixjtvveen the two wings 
of tlio portico, it wonlti liave U'eii pleaainfi and uppi'ojiriutL-. Whero 
it Ls, its only effwt in tliat of dwartin<.' what is already too low. 

Most of tile faults of the British ^liigeiiiu jwrtico were avoided by 
Sir V.'. Titu in his desijrn for tlio Royal Exchaiifie, ivhich was being 
erectyl abont the same time. There the jwrtico otfupies nearly the 
whole of the west end of the edifico, and is prairtirally a difrnilied 
and well-jn'oiwrtioned entrano: to the frreat liall, or eourtyard, which 
is the main featni'e of the Ijiiiidiiisf, and the real puiiioBe for which 
it was ei^ectud. The Order, too, is carried all round the building;; 
and, thoHfih it is of coui-se somewhat altsnrd to liave a range of small 
8hoi>s Iftlow, and otfiee windows alwve, under this t4;mp!ar ordinance, 
it is ttoiiderfnl how nse reconciles us to it, and throws a dignity 
about the whole l)uild!n<; which could ni)t so easily be attained with 
emallei' parts. The design is, in fact, the samt! as that of the church 


of St. MartiiiViii-the-fiiilda, on a lar{!:er scale, and with tliia impi-ove- 
meut, tli»t the spire, instead of hcin^' astiide on the portico, is ])laced 
at th(! further tiid of tho huildiug, hut where it ousht to have Injen 
very much larger and njoa' important to be suited to its situation. 
The real defect of the wlioie, however, is that a Cliristijiu cliiiroh 
and an Excbiiii^ for men:hants should \xi practiL-a!ly the same design — 
and that, an attempt to look like a Roman temjile, and not anything 
belonffini; either to our own age or onr own i-ountry. 

Mr. Cockeruirs dusifcn, wliich was pruparud in competition with 
this one, avoided most of these fatdts, thou>;h running into others. 
His idea of a faQade was a Roman triumphal arch, which is certainly 


more appropriate tlian a shiiple pillaivtl poi'cli : but the result was 

feeble, and deficient in lifclit and sliadu, thou>;h elegant of course in 
detail. It never occurrc-d to eitiier of these architects tliat it mi^ht 
be possible to forget Rome, and think only of London with its climate 
and iU n'ants. 

The jKirtico which Bu8e\'i erected in front of the Fitzwilliani 
Museum at Cainbridge is very much of the same nsclesa character 
us that at the British Museum, hut much less objuetlonable -. in the 
firBt place, bevatise more elegant in detail and better projioitioned ; 
in the next, because it dues tenniuate naturally at both ends ; and, 
lastly, beauise evidently only a Classical screen to hide a building 
nearly as ornamental behind. A screen is always of coui'se objec- 


tionable in Art ; hut if it is determined that the building shall 
reproduce the effect of a pre-Christian temple or hall, it is perhaps 
better to cut the difficulty by tliis means at once, than to attempt 
to mix the ancient and modern together in the hope of producing 
a deception which very seldom can be successful. 

At the same time it must Ikj confessed that such a portico as th's 
is so elegant in its arrangement and detail that the temptation to 
employ it could hardly Ik; resisted. Even the Mediaeval architects 
produced nothing which in itself so completely sjitisfies all the 
conditions of good arc^hitecture. Take, for instance, the fa9ade of 
the C.ithedral at Peterlwrough,* Avhich is the Gothic portico that most 
nearly resembles this one, and is one of the most l)eautiful productions 
of Mediaeval Art. If it were erected on the opposite side of the 
street, with similar dimensions to Basevi's portico, as a fa9ade to a 
Gothic natural history museum, the incongniity would he the same, 
but the two styles fairly pitted against each other. If asked to choose 
l)etween the two, fifty yeure ago, probably nine out of ten educated 
men would have declared for the Classical example. At present the 
])re]X)uderance would probably Ixj the other way, but few would 
perceive that there was a "tertium (juid" In^tter than either. The 
real defect of the Cambridge ]X)rtico, as of that of the sister example 
in Bloonisbnry, is that they are exjxjnsive shams. Had Mr. Basevi 
set himself do\ni to design a really appropriate fa^iide, two, or it may 
be three, storeys in height, with the same money, he might have pro- 
duced one of twice tiie superficial dimensions, and so gained immensely 
in dignity. Witli pro]XTly accentuated angles and a l)old entmnce 
in the centre, it might have l)een made to tell its own story ; and 
if tiie cornices, stringcourses, and window-mouldings had all l)een 
elegant and well-])ro]K)rtioned, the effect nuist have l)een j)leasing ; — 
while grou])ing the o]K*nings, and interspersing them with panelHng 
and (ronventional carA'ing, might have rendered the whole a tiling of 
pernianeiit and ever-pleasing Ixiauty. To do all this, however, would 
have retjuired infinite thought and skill on the jiart of the architects 
of these two buildings, and after all might not have l)een successful 
till several trials iiad l)een made in the same direction, each avoiding 
the faults and im])roving on the excellences of its pRniecessor. 

It is not tiias, however, that modern buildings are dtisigned ; and 
till it is, we nuist l)e content to extract what crunilw of comfort we 
can from the more or less })erfect imitations which are produced to 
satisfy the critical taste of the day : and of these the culminating 
example and most successful sj)ecimen of this style of Art in England, 
IXirha])S in EurojH\ is St. George's Hall, Liver]>oc)l. Its dimensions 
are, in the tii-st place, sujyerli — 42() ft. in length by 1 lo in width — 

* *HiMon' of Architecture,* vol. ii., p. 40 (Woodcut No. 574). 
VOL. II. ^ 



and ornamented by an Order Sfi ft. in hei-rht. The centre intenmlly 
IB occupied Ity one grand hall 1G9 ft. in lenftth, fiS ft. high, and 
75 ft. wide, to whii'ii must be added recewtes 1 3 ft. dwp on each aid". 
The dea^rn of this noble room is adapted from that of the great halls 
of the Themiie at Rome, 
and its ornamentation is so 
rich and taatefiil aa to 
make it one of the most 
splendid Btnictures in Eu- 
rope. At eitlicr end are- 
conrt-rooms, 00 ft. by Tilt, 
openinf^ into it, and Iwyond, 

at one end, a concert-room 
"A ft. deep. The smaller 
roonifl that are groujied 
round these are so hI«o- 
Intely comtuiled on tlie east, 
north, and south sides, that 
they do not interfere with 
the Claisit-al effect : and, on 
the west, tliongh windows 
do ajUK-'ar, tiiL-y are so ojietily 
uiul MO appropriately intro- 
•liiei'd that there is no aj>- 
jiearnnee of meaiinisa on thisi 

! 1^ ^ ' •■ I siile, or aiiythinf; to detract 

8 3i ~y T~ III iiJ ^''""' ^'"^ apleiidonr of the 

CI ■ • I _ _. eaat front. The principal 

facade ia oniamented by a 

i h ' If] Z jKirtico of aixteeii Corinthian 

r-^jl P- 2 (K)binins, each 40 ft. in 

hei;;ht; lieyond wliicli on 

each side la a " er^^lto- 

portioHfl" of five winare 

pillars, filled up to one-tbird 

of tiieir heifrht by s<Tet'nM ; 

the n-Jiole lieinj: of tlu- 

purest and most i'X<|uiiiiCf 

.-i.n; .vu .c^. .... ....... (irtrian rather than lioman 

detail. The effect of so 
simple, yet so variwl a comjKisition, extendiiif: over Km fee>t, with the 
dimensions iinoted idMive, is ipiite uiiriviillvtl, and i)ri>dun.« an effwt 
of grandeur uneijualled hy any other modem huildinf; known. The 
south front, witli its octastyie portieo, is verj- Iteaiitiful, bnt iiresents 
no remarkable featnres of miVflty ; and its princiiKd merit is that 

Chap. IV. 


it groups BO plensiiiglj with tlie ensteni facade, and almost siiggostg 
the semicircular t«rini nation at the other end. 

With these dimensions there is perhaps no other building in 
modern times which would enable us to compare moi-e (.-loselj' the 
merits of Grecian and Mediteval Art. The plan and ontline of St. 
George's Hall is very mnrh that of a Jledias^^al cathe<lrn! ; and if 
we could fancy York, or any other cathedral, ivitliout its towers, 
substituted for it, we sliould be able to say which is the most 
effective. Even in height- they are not dissimilar. But the one is 
a windowless pile, simple in ontline, severe from the fewness of it« 
parts, but satisfying the most fastidious tastes from the purity of 
its details. The other would be rich, varied, and far nioi-e clieerful 

in appearance ; depending principally on its windows for its deco- 
ration, and making up, to a great extent, for its want of ]'uriiy, by 
the appropriateness of its details. 

But here again, as in the suggested parallel between the portico 
of the Fitzwilham Museum and the fajade of Peterborough Cntliedral, 
the one is calculated to satisfy the demands of the ln'st-edueated 
and most refined taste, while the Gothic example addresst.-s itself to 
a class of feelings wilder and more poetic ; and though it may l>e as 
elevated, it certainly is a less pure and less intellectual form of Art, 

Grunge House, Hampshiiv, which was i"econstnicted from designs 
by Wilkins about the year IW2(), is not only too cliaructeristic an 
example of his taste in design, but also of the in appropriateness of 
the revived Grecian style as applied to Domestic Architeccure, Not 
only do the porticoes add immensely to the e.tpense of such a. litt.\.\fci.%., 



t IV. 

without in the Binallest decree increaaiiig dthcr its comfort or con- 
reiiiuiH'!.', hilt the; iictu»llf diirkeu the wliidowB, and Bitg<;est the 
arrans^nieiit of a class of huildiiifrs differing in evei7 respect from 
the piirposi-s uf a nohleitiaii's niansioii in an English ]>ark. It is no 
ivondci' that a reaction soon set in ngitinst such a stylu as this. 
WUkiris's own designs in Tudor Gothic afforded far more accommo- 
dation, for tile same e.^iiensc, and with infinitely more appropriateness 
and convenience tlinn is found in his (irecian huildings. Though 
faaliion may iit one time have induced n<)lilemen to submit to the 
inconveniences of tlie piuv Classic, tlie moment the Gotliic became 

a» f on 

pnjbti e 1 a 

purpose's n 
T r 

tlo o 

1 s of C 

Im a n 


fo 1 

•or n 

»1 t 

proixj 1 
dct t » ! 

th ajpuHl 

tien. nas a eid of the first; and it is very im- 

t a e r K. ived again in tliia countrj-, for sucli 

s as fi d ap) ied to at Grange. 

s eral n d gs in Edinburgh and Glasgow which, 

Rmal r blh mus l>e considered as succ^Bsful adapta- 

ss ca Vrch tec am The most go is perliajw the Royal 

jti tk Mound a Edinburgh, where the Grecian Doric is 

freed mad t le same time a success, not to lie 

o 1 r an 1 1 i this country. The porticoes here 

■B t fla k oonnades are stopped against blocks 

1 n h Ktt a 1 moaning ; and the whole is so well 

as to J od o. a most satisfactory result. The greiit 

ua on )t so ow as to hv looked down upon from 

I es tl er f o or rear. From George Stitet the 

Chap. IV. 



spectator ia oo a level with the cornice, and so loses all effect of 
perapeclire ; and iivm the Ciistle Hill ho has a revelation of skylights 
and chiniiiey-(K)ts sadly deatnictive of the ilhision pixKlueed liy the 
purity of thu external aR'liitectnre. Placed on the Caltou Hill, or 
on any heiirlit, it wonld liuve l>ueii one of the most fniiltlciis uf inodeiii 
buildiii^ii. Where it is, it fails entirely in pi-odneiiij; the effect which 
is due to the heauty of the desijrii. 

The New Hitrh School, hy Hamilton, is jwrhaj* even a happier 
adaptation of the style to modern pnrjxtses, thoii^di on a less iiionu- 
mental scale, and witli far less lautunsion. 'I'he sitiiatifin, iioft-ever, 
is most happy -, and the adaptatioji of the front of the hnildinj; to 
the site, and to thu puriwsea to which it is apjilieil. so pnceessful, im 
alnnKit to make ns lielievu that it miirht l>c possililc iwdly to adajit 

\iew, however, of the 
dilutes the ilhision. 
. turns out, like the 
liehind h 

build ii: 

Greek arc'hitwtiirc to nioihrn iv(|uiivnients. 
Iniildiii}; /mm the C'alton Hill rather 
Though thei>; is nothiuf: mean aimtit it, 
Fitzwilliam ^Tnseuni, to l)e merely a mcKlev 
C lass i ad screen. 

Such indeed seems to l>e tliu residt of all our mrxlent e.'(|K>rieucv in 
this direction. Either we must be content with ;j;(h>i1 hom-st two or 
three storeycd huildinfrs, like the Paris Bourse, the LiveriHiol t'nslom- 
house, or the Leeds Town-hall, adding columns to as ^'ivat an extent 
BS the front will admit of, and thcTi, like the i)huasj»iits «itli tiu-ir 
beads in the brake, trust to iiu one ]ierceivinfr that the pillare are not 
all in all, hut that the ivindows mesiu somethliit: ; or we must tro to 
great exitensc to put up screens and to hide our modem necessities, 
and hope no one will find us out. This has been lautrly i 


at St. George's Hail, but hardly anywhere else ; and after all, sup- 
poBiii^ it SHWfsaful, is this an aim worthy of the most tmthfut aud 
inwlmiiic:il of the Arts ? 

Sometliitig more nearly aiicoessful than any of the huildin^ just 
qnoteil. was awonipliahed by the late Sir James Peiinethonie, in the 
buildinfrs lie erected in Burlington Gardens to accommodate the Lon- 
don University. The details throughout are severely ClasBiral, aud 
the fonu sufficiently moimmentui for the situation or the purposes to 
which tlie bnildirig is dedicated, that there is nothing alwiit the build- 
ing which can be called a sham, or anything that can even lie 
reprojiched aa suggcating a falsehood. The two great balls in the wings, 
which aiv appropriately lighted from their upper storej-a, enabled him 
to get repose and dignity in an niipierced basement, and the requisite 

support to the centiv contaiuiug tlie council-room and other state 
ajiiirtnieuM of the building. All this is cxpiiisscd in the exterior as 
tnithfully us in any mediaeval building, and with an elogan<'e that 
satieties the most relined taste. Tlie portico is perhaps the least suc- 
cessful [niri of tbe design, but its use is obvious, and tlieie is nothing 
about it «litch seriously detracts from tiie lieauty of the whole design. 

Had he !i\ under a happier constellation, Cockerell would itur- 
liajjs have done more than any of the archite.ts of the lust generation to 
raise the taste of hia eountrymeii. By biitb and education, but more 
than either by feeling, he wan one of the most R'tiiied gentlemen of 
Iiis day. Itad taste and vulgarity weiv ini|.iossible with him, though 
unfortnmitely eiTors of judgment weiv not only {lossible, but almost 
iidieivnt in the line of design ivliieb be adopted. In youth be travelled 
much, and i"e8idfd Irng in Greece, si> that it is little to \k wondei\'d at, 
that a student of his bent of mind became so deeply enamoured witlt 

AC. IV, 


the Arw of that Ci.iBsic land that he never aftor'v.nxfe almiidoned them. 
(Tinhic luicU' liitu shuddisr, and even iLjIiun was not sufficiently ruliiitKl 
for hU tasU:, Had he lived at the piiscnt day wu should probably 
never have heard of his name ; but at the tini; he eommonced practice 
the country still retninud enough of the e.vpirinf; taste for Grecian 
an U> give him a clianee, and he has left l)ehitid hiiu Home beautiful 
moimments, but unfortunately all more or less defonued from the vain 
attempt to reconcile modem fe'jlings and n'atits with the inflexible 
purity of C'Uissic forina. 

As an-hitut't to the Bank of England, he ei-ecttil Iininch houses for 
it in most of the great connnerc'ial <.^nti'c-s in England. These are all 



like th 

the nin 

Thv U! 

L Iinildiiigs appropriate to their pnr]K>scs, and with ni)thing 
them thiit <-;iii lie callei! shams. But tliei-e are many tilings — 
e idle thi-ee-quiiner pillars— one would like to see omittwl and 
d with s<inie inoa' ajipnipriate. But of his commeii-iai liuiidings 
St siiiii'ssfnl is the Sun Fiiv Office, at the i-onier of 'I'hi-ead needle 
anil Nii'holiis Lhiic, a design which he afterwanls rejicated, 
with consideriihle variations. In the E.vchange buildings, Liver- 
Nothing in the City is more elegant and a])]inipriate than this. 
li|ii.-r range of columns gives lightness anil variety just where it is 
and the cornice is well proiKUtionetl to the whole. The iingles, 
well atveiituated ; and it need hardly lie added all the details 



Of his otiicr buildinga, perhapti the most iniportuiit was tlic Tuylor 
and lUiidolph iTistitiitc at Oxford. It consiata of two wiiijra, three 
Btorcj's in lii;i^'lit, t^iiiicctwl b)' a long ts^llcry of singularly clegiiiit 
and ClaBsic dcsijtn. But us this has no npiiiivrit windows, iind is 
lower tlian the wings, it certainly is a mistake ; so, too, is the mode 
ill wlikrh the windows of the U]»iK;r storey hi-uak through and interrupt 
the lines of tlm principal cornice. In spit-c, however, of these and other 
defects which could be point<Hl out, then; is {jerhapB no building in 
England on which the refined student of Arcliitocture can dwell witli so 
much pleusniv. Thea' is not a moulding or chisel mark anywhere whic-h 
is not the result of deep study, guided by refined feeling. If there are 
eiTors in design, inseparable from the problem he was trying to solve, 
thei'e are so few in detail, that it is quite ivfreshing, nmong the Imr- 
barisni of Iwitii ancient and moileru Gothic Art In that city, to W ahk 
to dwell on something so pure and elegnnt (ls this. 


a [ji a Bft IB II B IB 

Sir Charles Haixy was almost the only one of tht aichittLt^ ol t 
Revival who seems to ha^'e perceived the bopLleasness of tht luuh tl: 
were pureuiiig ; and if he had been left to follow the Ixnt of hi- o' 
genius, would probably liave set au e.\amplc that viould hate hil i 
greatest influence on the style of Art in tlib countn Out it I 
earliest works was remodelliug the fujade of the (olk^i if Nn_' 
in Lincoln's Inn Fields. He found it with a mi; i omniotii 1 1< e ;k in 
ruiinins; through two storej's, uiid with an attic il ( vl In-l ni 
trying merely to improve this, he boldly plane-d i coiun-iiin. omi i 
whole, thus reducing the portic'o to the iioMtion of a niLre idjumt i 
making the whole three storeys jxirt of om, great loiisciitaneoii- k*!. 
The attempt was so successful, and so liki, a great diacoterj, tliii i 

. IV. 


wotider is that an attic w-ns ever iiitrodiii'cd aftcnvards ; but it is not 
the prn\iTicy of nrchitcots to think at the [insc'iit Any, and, though more 
rarely than formerly, attics arc stil! inti-odiiced. 

His next and even more succossfiil desi^'ri was the southern front of 
the Trivellers" Club, where, by simply grouiniiji the central windows 
t<^ether, and allowing sufficient space between them and those on 
either band to t;i\-e an idea of solidity and R'pose, he proihioed one of 
the most a|T|>n)]iriate designs of miHiern times — so ^ood, that it mnst 
have been pleiisiiif^ even without ornament ; but this, too, was applied 

so judiciously and eleganth, that none of the sue(.ee<lui^ dcaif^iis of 
club-housL'R have surjiosaed this Tbt. nortbtrn fn^adt, is not so hajipi 
Its main features an. copied from tliosi of the Pandolhni I'alicL at 
Floi-etKX', tbns showing not onU how citih a nuHleni architect could 
BUrpiiss even so famed a one as Riphiicl, wiio is said to haic lietn the 
author of this design, but also hov\ fttal it is cv en in such a case as this 
to eojty instead of tbinkinf;;. HLs Reform t'lub was more ambitions and 
less happy, in cousecjuence of a rather too great leaning towai-ds tl»i 



B(.iK IV. 

Fiirncae Palace, wliich eufTReRled the miitivo ffir ilic dwi^ii. The 
wiiiilon'H are i.'i>rise<iu<;iitly too small for this cliinute, and tlii' iiirni- 
cioiie U»> solid fur the range of windows iininediattlr under it. There 
is also a deirrt* of nionotonr in tlie wpial Bpaeinj; of thv uindim-a 
thn>u<;houi the two jirinciptl fa^'odes, wliieh wimid onlv tte exeiuuilije 
in bnildinpt of a inori; monumental class than this one can jintend to. 
The cfinstiiuenee Ls tliut the western end, thonsih il can lianlly l)e 
seen, is by fur the most pleasing uf the external facades of this Club. 

Kantana Fifidc of Ri 

FrDm Sir C. Buij'i UFe. 

Its superiority arises simply from a slipht Rrouping in the windows, a 
larger plain spire l)eing li^ft l>etween the central group of four and thu 
two outer groujs of two windows each. It is not much, lint e'en this 
slijrlit evideiiix- of dwign jjoes far to satisfy the mind. 

Most of the defects of the Reform Chib were remedied by him sub- 
Reijuently, when Bn|ierin tending the erw'tion of Itridgeiciitcr [louse, 
wliicJi is vorj- similar in size and arrangements, ami shows how nnich 
ciin t)e done by ii little grouping of the windon-s and taste in the details 
with the usual elements of un English nobleminrs house, tvithont the 

Chap. IV. 



Dselesa porticoes which the previoiis century thought such iiHlisix'iisaMi; 

Ill the interior of Iwth these buildinfja Sir Charles Barry ininxhifed 
a modification of the Itnliau Cortile, which wns a new feature in huiliiiufrs 
in this couutry, but one perfectly legitimate, and cajwble of the nnwt 
pleasing effectfl. As before reniar''.id, the Cortile is a " mezzo termine " 
between the architecture of the exterior and tliitt of the rooms in tlic 
interior ; and an architect is j^rfectly justitied in making it Iciin 
either to one side or to the other, as he may desire. 

In the instances now (iuote<l, the Cortile, being roofed over, liwiiine 

a hall ; and Sir Charles would have ItecTi justified hi tmiting tliis 
feature more as a room than he did ; and there can be little doubt hut 
that after a few more trials it would have become so, and lost all (nice 
of external amhltecture. As it is, these two are very pleasitijr sjiwiniens 
of as monumental a style of treatment as is compatible witli iutei-iial 
purposes, and are as pleasing features of internal decoration as i-aii Ih.' 
found in this country. 

If Banc's (lesifrn for the Treasury Buildings was not su successful. 
it was owing to the fact that the cask proposed to him here was — 
similar to that suggested alwve to improve the Bank of Eiiglmid — to 
raise a, low colonnaded design of Sir John Soaiie'a on a stylolmte, and 


jrive ii tla* height ivijuisiLe for ac(\>inui(Kl.itioii and effect. The Order 
and all the elements wero j^iven to Barry, and he made the l)e8t of 
them : luit there is no douht tiiat he WDuld have done l)etter if leas 

AVhile i)ni*suinji: so sucee^sfully this (career of introducing common 
sense into architectural desijrn, 8ir Charles Barry was, unluckily for 
his ha])j»iness and fame, (chosen archittK't for the greatest an^hitectunil 
undertakinir in this country since the rehuildinjr of St. Paul's. It was 
unfortunate for him, as at that time the Oothic mania had become so 
prevalent that Parliament determine<l that their New Palace should 
be in that style. The j)lea for this was that it nmst harmouise with 
Westminster Hall and the Abbey, though a greater misconception of 
the true elements of the problem could hardly have been eouceived, 
for both these buildings suffer enormouslv from their younger and 
gaudier rival, and would have gained immensely l)y being contrasted 
with a UKxlern building in another style. However large and how- 
ever ornamental the latter might have been, it could not have 
interfered with the older buildings in any way ; and both would have 
Ixien great and characteristic truths, instead of one honest truthful 
Mediieval building being placed in juxtaiK)sition with a mere modern 

Had the architect been allowed to follow the bent of his own mind, 
he i>rob.ib'y would have a(loi)ted Inigo Jones's river fa9ade for the 
]>«dace at Whitehall as the motivo of his design. It was exactly fitted, 
both from design and dimensions, to the situation ; and with such 
changes as the difference of purj)oses reiiuire<l, or his own taste and 
excpiisitc knowledge of detail might have suggested, woidd have 
resulted in a p.dace of which we might well l)e proud. A dome might 
then have covered the central hall, instead of the spire as at present ; 
and in that position would have been us effective as the dome of 
St. Paul's is, when comj)ared with what the spire of Salisbury would 
have been in its place. The simj)le outlines of the Victoria and Clcx^k 
Towei-s are much more suited to Italian than to Ootliic^ details ; and so, 
in fact, is the whole buildiuij:, which is essentially Claissic in form and 
principle, and only (iothic in detail. Being compelled to adopt the 
(lothic style, the building is an\thing but a suwess ; for the task of 
jjroducing a modern palace, with all its modern ap])liances, and which 
shall look like a building of another age, and designed for other 
])urj)oses, has hitherto ])roved a task l>eyond any architect's strength to 
succeed in. 

As the buildings of the Parliament Houses, however, are Gothic, 
they do not belong to the Classic Revival, and nmst in consetpience be 
described further on, when treating of the Gothic Revival. 

In the meantime, however, we may to a certain extent gather from 
some buildings he erecte<l in tin' country what style Barry woidd have 

tHM'- IV. KNCf.AXI): ll.ASSIrAI. liKVlVAI- 


a^f*|>:e<l had he Ijeen Itfft to choose his own style. Strange to aay, 
however, notwithstanding his great practice, Barry had no opportonity 
of ere<-tinir anv great mansions entiivlv from his own design. At 
Trentliaiii, at Highclere or Cli.fden, or at Clumber, he was called on 
to improve existing mansions, and to do this of conrse at the least 
|>o>sible expense. One of the most successful of these designs is that 
for the last-mentioned i>alace (Woodcut ^12), which gives a good idea 
of his style, and on a small scale prolwhly represents something that 
our Parliament Houses would have lookeil like had he been allowed 
hLs own way. It mib^t, however, l)e Iwrne in mind that a great part 
of what is shown in the last wmxicut Ix-loiiirs to the old house, wliich 
he was not allowetl to pull d(>\ni, and could only modify in a limited 
degi\*e, while it, to a great extent, rt»gulated and governed his own 
desiirn. The ]>n»babilitv is that his <lesiirn for the Parliament Houses 
would have l>een much richer, and, in fa<'t, moiv like in style to the 
Halifax Town Hall, repR*sente<l in the w<K)d(;ut on the following 
jmL'e, whirh displays his .-tyle in a favourable liirht : no shams or 
H^Teeiis, but ear-h stfjrev and eacli feature left to tell its own tale, 
and that with irreat varietv and richness of detail. The least pleasinir 
feature in this dt.-siLni is the >]»ire. It is lieavy and inelegant. He had 
niu<-li lM.-tter have adopted Sir ('liristopher Wren's principle of steeple- 
bnildin«% and divided it into storevs. With his taste and facility 
he wr>uld no doul)t have produr-ed by that mode sometliing far more 
eleirant than this. But take it all in all, for its size, there are few of the 
modern town-halls sr) successful as that at Halifax, or which gives a 
more ]>leasinir idea of Bairy's powers of design in the style which was 
(•♦•itainly that of his ]>redilection. 





The first person who, in Ens^land iit least, seems to have conceived the 
idea of a (fotliic Revival, was the celehrated Horat^e AValiK)k*. lie 
jmrchased tlie property at Strawberry Hill, in 17.")i), and seems shoitly 
afterwards to have commenced rebnildinji; the small cottime which 
then stood there. The Lower Cloister was erirted in 17«'o-i;i. the 
Beanclerc Tower and ()cta<ron (loset in 170(1, and the Xonli Ued- 
chamher in 177^. 

We now know tliat these are \t'ry indillerent s|»ecimens of the true 
j)rhiciples of (Iothi(; Art, and are at a loss to imderstand how either 
their author or his contenii)oraries rould ever fancy that those very 
(pieer carvinirs were ai'tual reproductions of the details of York 
Minster or other etiuallv celehrated huildinirs, from which ihev were 
supposed to have ])een coj)ied. AVhether correct or not, they seem to 
have created (luite a furorr of ^leditevalism amonir the hiir-wiirired 
ii'entrv who strutted throuirh :ne saloons, and were willinir to believe 
the ^liddle Aires had been reproduced, which no (haibt they were, 
with as nuich correctness as in the once celebrated tale of the ' Castle 
of Otranto.' 

liad as Walj^ole's (lothic was, it was ])etter, accorJiir.; to the 
])nsent definition of the Uvriral^ than that whic^h had precedec. it, and 
was directed to a totallv different result. AVren and the architects of 
his aire, who may be taken as representinjir the Gothic Br/nft\ss{f/nry 
souirht to reproduce the forms and the spirit of the Gothic style, 
while showin^r the most profound contempt for its details. The new 
school aimed at reproducinjr tlie details, wholly regardless of either 
their meaning or their a])plication. The works of AVreii at St. 
Micliaers, Cornhill, at St. l)unstan's-in-the-East, or of Hawksmoia* at 
All Sjiints, Oxford, all show a ]KTfect appreciation of the aspiring and 
pictnresfpie fonns of the style, coupled with an ignorance of or 
contempt for the details, which is ver}' offensive to our miKlern purists. 
On the other hand, the towers, the cloisters, or the library at 
Strawberry Hill are neither defensible, nor monastic, nor ^lediieval. 
It is essentially the villa residence of a <rentleman of fortune in the 


€ighteeiuli century, ornamented with details borrowed from the 
fomteentli or fifteenth. 

It is vor}' neiiessarj to bear this distinction hi mind, as it pervades 
all Gothic designs down to the present day ; and is, in fact, the 
characteristic, as it is the fatal, feature of the whole system. 

The fashion set by so distinguished a jx?rson as Horace Walpole 
was not long in finding followers, not only in domestic but in religious 
buildings. Although London was spared the hifliction, Liverpool and 
other towns in Lancashire, which were then rising into importance, 
were adorned with a class of churches which are a wonder and a warning 
to all future ages. St. John's, LiverjK)ol, may l)e taken Jis a t\']Xi of 
the class ; but it is not easy now to understand how any one could 
fancy that a s^juare block with Siish windows, and the details of this 
building, was a reproduction of the pirish clmrches of the olden time 
which thev saw around them. The idea at that time seems to have 
been tliat any window that was |X)inted, any jKirapet that was nickc^l, 
and any tower that had four strange-looking olxOisks at its angles, was 
ijssentially Gothic ; and proccn^ding on this system, they })roduced a 
class of buildings which, if they are not (Jothic, had at least the merit 
of Ixjing nothing else. 

The same svstem was carried into Domestic An-hitecture ; and it is 
surprising what a number of castles were built which have nothing 
castellated about them, except a nicked jxirajxit and an occrasional 
window in the form of a cross, with a round termination at the end of 
each branch. This is sup])osed to represent a loophole for archery, but 
on so BrolHlingnagian a scale, that the giant who could have used it 
could never have thrust his body into the pepjKT-lK)X which was 
adorned in this singular manner. Generally a cinuilar tower at each 
angle was thought sufficient, and frequently a little solid "guerite," 
about :> ft, in diameter, attached to each angle of the pimixit, rej)re- 
flented the defensive mwins of these modern ctistles. Lambton, Lowther, 
Inverary, EgUnton, and fifty others, represent this class. The Adams 
were the greatest of these military architects, and siimed more in this 
way than any others. They built Colzeiin Castle, Ayi"shire, which, 
from the circumstance of its situation, is one ot the most sucK^essful of 
its class, and really a picturesque dwelling-house, tliough it would 
have l)een far better without its so-called Gothic details, even if Italian 
were substituted for them. 

With the last century this wonderful style was dying out, at letist 
if we may judge from Loudon Castle, built by Elliot, and some other 
specimens, where mullions were occasionally introduced, and something 
more like a Gothic feeling prevailed, not only in the details, but the 
general features of the design. The great impulse, however, that wi.s 
given to the change was by Beckford, who under very similar circum- 
stances, repeated at Fonthill what Waljjole had done at Strawbiirrx 

VOL. II. \\ 


Hill, but witli the imprDYtd kiiowlwlge ivhich the cxperieiu* of lialf a 
century had iiffordwl. 

It WIS alwiit thu year 1705 that Bwkford iviis (iret Beizfd with n 
desire to ImiUl, in the grounds of Foiithill Pnrk, " a (■oiivciit in niiiis," 
to be a sort of ]>kiiKnre-hoi]»e and place of retreat. With tlie assiNtiiiiee 
of Jaiiiea Wyatt the biiildiiif; wbb very rapidly eoinpletwl ; bnt, k-iiift 
wluilly of tiiiilier aud plastiir, it timiMwl down liefore it was well 
finished, but only to be connnent-etl ou a lai^r Bt'ale, and with more 
durublti niateriuls. In 1807 it was so f,ir complete that its owner 
went to reside in it, and the old mansion-house was iibaiidoned. In 

It FuntbJU Abbey. 

1K12 the fast winf^ was oommeneed, and the works profrreased 
with little intorruiition till nearly 1822, when the place was sold 
and disniaiitled, only to tnnible down again aud nearly to nnnilei' its 
new master, 

Dnrinj; the progress of the works the greatest mystery was kept 
up. Xo one was admitted to see them, luid tiie conseipieiK^e was that 
when thrown ojien, in 1822, every one nisJied to see the place, and to 
wonder at its almost Eastern magnilicence, and the more than Eastern 
disregard of common sense shown in it* arriingenienLs. >[ost of the 
defects of tile design arose from its lieing hnilt to resemble aii nbliey ; 
but that was a jmrt of the Hyt-tem. It kh» necessary that it sboukl he 


either a church, or a castle, or a college, or something of the sort ; and 
many of the eiTors in proportion arose from the expansion of its 
designer's ideas during the thirty yeai*s that the works were in progi'ess. 
But, notwithstanding tliis, it was by far the most successful Gothic 
building of its day, more Mediaeval in the pictm-esque irregularity of 
its outline, more Gothic in the correctness of its details, than any which 
had then been erected. With all its faults, no })ri\'ate residence in 
Europe |X)ssessed anything so splendid or more Ixjautiful than the 
suite of galleries, 300 ft. in length, which ran north aud south through 
the whole building, on^y inteiTupted by the great octagon, whose sole 
defect of design was that, like the dome of St. Paul's, it was too high 
for its other proportions, and for the apartments which led into it. 
Its faults either of detail or design were so infinitely less than those 
of any other building which had been erected at that time, that the 
public did not perceive them, while its l)oauties were so nuich greater, 
that all the world jum[)ed at once to the conclusion of the infinite 
perfectibility and adaptability of Gothic Arcliite<'ture to all ])uri)oses. 
The discovery, as it was then thought to be, was hailed with 
enthusiasn), and nothing was thought of or built but (Jothic castles, 
Gothic a])beys, Gothic villas, and Gothic ])igsties I AVyatt, whose 
fairy creation was the cause of all this hubl)ub, did not live to reap the 
iK'uefit of it. Very few original churches or palaces are to be found of 
his design, but he was most extensively cni])loyed in restoring and 
refitting those which did exist. • AVhat he did with the cathedrals 
intrusted to his care we now know to have been deplorable, though he 
is hardly to blame for this. Classical feelings were not then dead, and 
men longed for Classical effects in Gothic buildings, and funds were 
generally so s]>iiringly supplied that stucco had often to ])e employed 
to replace decayed stonework. But with all this, it was a good work 
iK'gun, and not l)efore it was wanted. Since that time we have become 
wonderfully critical, but it is mainly to Wyatt and his contemiK)rarie8 
that we owe the origin of the present movement, and of the work of 
restoration which is now l)eing so enthusiastically carried out.^ 

Though AVilkins was evidently Classical in his art taste, he probably 

* We are now liorrified at what Wyatt what was concocteil by a committee in a 

did witii our cathedrals, and fuU of wonder back parlour of uu architect's office, and 

at the blindness of (»ur fathers in not per- carried nut, not because it was the best to 

ceiviug how wrong he was. Do we leel be done, but because it was all their 

quite sure that our children will not be funds would admit of? 
equaUy shocked at what we are now Whntever may be the case ifi this 

doing with the bame buihlii)gs? Are not country, it is quite ctrt«iu the 

the honest changes made by Wyatt pre- French arcli tccts of the pnscnt day ore 

ferable to the forgeries of the architects worse than all the Wyatts that ever existed 

of the present day? Who w^ill in future since tiie world beuan : and he is lucky 

be able to tell what was the w^ork of our who paw France before the so-called work 

forefathers in the *• great days of old," or of rcsttnttion was commenced. 


built more in the Gothic than in the Classic il style ; and althouj'h his 
works do not show any real grasp of the principles of Mediaeval Art, 
his designs are free fi*oni most of the faults wliich are to be found in 
those of the architects who prec^eded him. He neither built ablwys 
nor castles for his clients to live in, nor did he ever range Ixjyond the 
one form 'of Gothic Art which was most suitable for domestic purposes. 
Taking for his models the Tudor mansions which remain, especially 
in the Eastern Counties, he re-arrangeil the parts and modified the 
position of the details so as to suit his purix)ses, and to give a sufficient 
appearance of novelty to his designs, and generally with a fair amount 

of 8UC(!eSS. 

The furore set in just when Xash was in the height of his fame, 
and in the full swing of his practice, and lie too was called upon to 
furnish Gothic castles for his admirers. Xothini? was easier. In the 
true s])irit of a modern archite(*t, and with all the energy of a man of 
business, Xash was prej)ared to build i>agoda.s, jwivilions, Orei-ian 
temples, Gothic churches, Gothic castles, or abbeys, suited either for 
suburban residences or manorial dwelling-places — anything at any 
price ; for if stone and ])rick were too dear, brick noggings and lath 
and ]>laster or stucco would ])n)(luce the niost splendid effects at the 
least ix)ssible price I The things which were done in those days are 
.wonderful in our eyes, and soon produced a reaction in favour of the 
present state of things : but a reaction that could hardly have ]>een 
effected but for the laboui-s of a class of artists who, though not, 
strictly sjieaking, architcKls themselves, have fin*nished the profession 
with the materials which thcv arc now iisin«; with such effect. 

The most remarkable among these men was John Rritton, who for 
more than half a century laboured with most unrtmitting zeal in 
publishing the splendid series of works whi(jh ])ears his name. The 
princi])al of these were * The Aivhitc^ctural Antiquities of Great 
Britain,' connnenced in 1«0.'», and *The Cathedral Anticjuities of 
England,' begun in 1811 and complete<l in 18;5r», besides 8<mie fifty or 
sixty otlu?!" works, all bearing more or less dircn^tly on this favourite 
subject. To these succeeded the works of the elder Pugin, who 
supplied, by accurate detailed measiu'ements, the information which 
Britton's woi-ks had given in a more picturesque form ; Le Keux, the 
engraver, and a host of other men lent their aid during the first 
quarter of this century ; so that, l>efore the next stage was reiichetl, 
not only was an architect inexcusable who did not enij)loy corrtrt 
details in his work, or who used them incoiTCctly, but the public had 
become so learned, and so fastidious, that anv deviation from authority 
was innnediately detected, and an architect guilty of this offence at once 
exposed and condenine<l. 

Rickman was, jxThai*, the man who did more to |)o]mlarise the 
„ study than even those laborious men above named. By a simple and 


easy classification he reduced to order what before was chaos to most 
minds ; and, by elevatini;^ the study of an art into a science, he not 
only apixfaled to the best class of minds, but j(ave an imix)i1;an(;e and 
an interest to the study which it did not possess till the jniblication of 
his works. 

These works, together with the experience f^ained dm'ing the first 
thirty vetirs of this centurv, had laid the foundation for a iHjrfect revival 
of Gothic Art, should su(;h l)e desired, when an immense impulse was 
j^iven to the atttim])t by the writings and works of the younger Pngui. 
He set to work to reform abuses with all the fire of a man of genius, 
which he undoubtedly was, and all the still fiercer intolerance of a 
pervert from the religion of his forefathers. Accoi*ding to him, what- 
ever was modern or Protestant was detestable and accursed ; whatever 
belonged to the Middle Ages or his new religion was beautiful and 
worthy of all reverence. Unfortunately for us, this simple creed had 
l)een adopted at that time by a large and most influential swtion of 
the Churc^h of England, who, shocked at the apjithy and inditference 
which prevailed, hit uj)on this expedient for rousing the clergy and 
recalling attention to the offices of religion. .Many, like Pugin, fell 
victims to their own delusions, and have gone over to liome, but not 
before thev had leavene(l the whole mass with a veneration for the 
fourteenth century and its doings, and a pious horror for the nineteenth, 
in which, unfortunately, they have been born, and in which thev and we 
nuist live and have our being. 

If cojjying corRrtly is really the only aim and pur]K)se of An'hi- 
te(;tural Art, l*ugin had some reason on his side when he siiid to his 
co-religionists, *' Let us choose the glorious e])och before the llefor- 
mation as our tyjx', and reproduce the gorgeous ell'ects of the ^liddle 
Ages, before the accursed light of reason di'stroyed the ]»hantusma 
of that massive darkness." With less jK'rfect logic he api>ealeil to the 
boasted iimnutability of the C'huivh ; forgetting that, in so far as 
Archite<.'ture was concerned, it had been one series of continuous, 
unresting change, from the age of Constanthie to this hour. During 
fifteen centuries *• Progress in Art " had been her watchword ; Pugin 
was the fii*st to ask her to step backwards over the last four. 

The api)eal to Protestants was still more illogical. AVhy should 
we d(?ny the Reformation ? Why should we Ik* asked to ignore all 
the progress made in eidightenment during the last four centuries ? 
Why should we wish to go about wearing the mask not only of Catho- 
lics, but of Catholics of the Dark Ages 't The answer was clear, 
though a little beside the question. You are now trying to reproduce 
Pagan fonns and Pagan temples ; why not prcKluce Christian forms 
and Christian churches ? It i^Mpiired a deejx'r knowledge of the sub- 
ject than is possessed by most men to give a satisfactoiy answer to 
this appeal. The Classic architects themselves had introduced the 


principle that copying was the only form of Art ; and if men must 
copy, they certainly had better copy what is Christian, and what 
belongs to their own country, than what belongs to another country 
and to another religion altogether. The eiTor was that both were 
only on the suiface, and so completely wrong that they Lad no right 
to impugn each other's principles, and had no jmnt ilu depart from 
which to reason. The consetjuence was that neither Pugin nor his 
antagonists saw to what their practices weixj tenduig. Every jxige of 
Pugin's works reiterate, " give us truth, — truth of materials, truth 
of construction, truth of ornamentation," &c. &c. : and yet his only 
aim was to produce an absolute falsehood. Had he ever succeeded 
to the extent his wildest dreams desired, he could only have produced 
so perfect a forgery that no one would have detected that a work of 
the nineteenth century was not one of the thirteenth or fourteenth. 
They have not yet, and, if there is anything in tlie theory of morals, 
they never can 8Ucc4M.*d ; but there are few more melancholy reflections 
than that so noble and so tnithful an art as Architwture should now 
be only practised to deceive, and that it has no higher aim than the 
production of a i>erfect diH^q)tion.^ 

Notwithstanding all this there were certain obvious advantages 
to be irained bv the introduction of (Jothic Archittrture in church- 
buildinu* in i)reference to Classic, wliich were almost certain — in the 
state in which matters then were — to insnre its l)eing adopted. 

The first of these was, that wlien ai)i>lie(l to a nuKlern church every 
piut could be arranged as originally designed, and every detail used 
for the i)uriK)se for which it was originally intended. It reijuired, 
therefore, neither al)ility nor thought on the i^irt of the architect to 

* The true bent of Tuj^in's niiiul was with all the corn ctness and splendour 

towunls the theatre, nud his eurlirst sue- with which it was represented at the 

cesses aehieved in reforminjJT the seeuery Princess's Theatre, and witli about tJie 

and drcoratious of the stage; and, through- ' same amount of reality as the other intro- 

out life, the tlieatrieul was the one and duced into the building and decoration of 

the only branch of his art which he the Mediaeval churches of tlie nineteenth 

perfectly understood. The circumstance century ; but so enchanted was Pugin, 

which would have brought his inherent and unfortunately many others, tliat they 

uiatlness earliest to a crisis would have have forsaken the religion of their ft)re- 

been if lie could have seen Garrick play fathers to enjoy the jwnip and splendour 

Kichard the Third in knee-breeches and of this MedisBval re]>rod notion. It is no 

a full-bottomed wig; and wo cannot but doubt very beautiful ; but, as Protestants, 

regret that he died before enjoying the perhaps we may be allowed t(» ask whether 

felicity of seeing Charles Ktau perform all this theatrical mngniticenee is really 

the same character with all the i)erfection an essential part of the Christian religion, 

of stage properties which he introiluced. and whether the dresses and di corations 

Both these eminent men devoted thrir of the Mitldle Age^ are really indis- 

lives to the same cause, and with nearly ])eu.sable for the proper celebration of 

equal success. What Kean did for the Divine wo^^hip in a Protestant com- 

Btuge, Pugin did for the church. The one munity in the nineteenth century? 
reproduced the drama of the Middle Ages 


attain appropriateness, wliicli is one of the principal requisites of a 
good design. 

In using the Classical style, it required the utmost skill and endless 
thought to make the parts or details adapt themselves even moderately 
well to the puq)oses of Modern Church Architecture. AVith Gothic, 
every shaft, every arch, every bracket was designed absolutely for the 
place in which to be again employed ; and it was only so much the 
Ixjtter if there were neither thought nor originality in the mode in 
which they were applied. 

A second advantage was the almost infinite variety of forms that 
could Ix; selected from Mediieval buildings, as compared with the 
limited repertoire of the Classical architect. Practiailly the latter was 
restricted to fi\Q Orders, the dimensions, the details, and the ornaments 
of which had been fixed imnmtably by long ciLstom, and could not now 
be altered. 

The Gothic architect, on the other hand, had windows of every 
shape and size, ])illars of every conceivable degree of strength or 
tenuity, arches of every spin or height, and details of every degree 
of j)lainness or elaboration. He had, in fact, a hundred Orders instead 
of five ; and as, according to the canons now in force, he is not 
answerable for their elegance or beauty, his task is immensely 
facilitated bv this richness of materials. 

A third and |x;rhape even more im])ortant advantage of the Gothic 
style is its cheajniess. In a (Jothic building the masonry cannot be too 
coarse or the materials too conunon. The carpentry nuist l)e as rude 
and as unmechanically put together as |)Ossi]jle ; the glazing as clumsy 
and the glass as bad as can be found. If it is wished to introduce a 
painted window into a church of a Classic^il design, you nuist employ 
an artist (jf first-rate ability to prepire your cartoon, and he will 
charge you a very large simi for it ; and it may cost as nuich more 
to transfer the drawing to the glass. xVny journeyman glazier earning 
his guinea to two guineiis a week is good enough to represent the 
sublimest mysteries of the ChrLstian religion, or the most solemn scenes 
of the Bible history, on the windows of a Gothic church. The Mystery 
of the Trinity, or the most iiffecting incidents of the Passion, are 
represented every day in this country in a manner that makes one 
shudder, and tlie surprisnig thing is that |x^ple of refinement are not 
offended bv such barbarous exhibitions. 

A fourth advantage that told very much in favour of the Mediieval 
styles was, that contenii)oraneously with their re-introduction the 
feeling arose that both ornament and ornamental construction were 
indisjMjnsiible in Chiu'ch Architectiue. Pillars were introduced in the 
interiors where they impeded both seeing and hearing, and towers were 
placed in the intersections where they endangered the construction ; 
but they were thought beautiful, or at least correct, and no one com- 


plained. In like manner chancels were introduced for effect, gidleries 
and pews were abolished, coloured marbles, stained glass, j^ainted 
ceilings, and decorations of every class were added. All these were 
assumed most erroneously to be parts of tlie style, but nine-tenths of 
them would have been as applicable, and ix)88ibly more effective, iu 
any other. 

During tlie Renaissance period, though the architect was sometimes 
allowed to ornament his construction, he was very rarely allowed to 
construct ornamentally. In almost all cases his church nuist l)e a 
rectiingular room, a fourth or a fifth longer than its width ; and the 
most essential condition of his instructions always was, that no s])ace 
must be wasted, but that his building must be so arranged as to 
accommodate the largest possible congregjition, and in doing so to take 
care that all shall see and hear jK-rfectly. Pews and gallerii.*s are eon- 
secjuently insisted u}K)n. Colour was not tolerated ; and if ])laster 
would do, no architect was allowed to use a more eostlv nuiterial. 
Under these circumstances, no fair (jomiiarison van be drawn between 
the two stylets as ])nwtised in this country. 

In addition to all this, it must be borne in mind that at the time 
of the Revival tlie ])ubli(^ l)egan, for the first time for nearly three 
hundred years, to a real interest in jirchitectural matters. Not 
onlv are the clergv now jrenerallv \erv well vei^sod in (lothitj 
An^hiti.'cture, but so also are the bulk of the better classes in their 
conirregations. Toirether thev not onlv take an unusual interest in 
the construction of a new eh uivl I, or 1 1 K' restoration of an old one: but 
thev are able to iruide and control their architect, to in<lire who is 
really the best skilled man for their purposes, and to see that his 
design is up to the mark and that he does his work efliciently. 

In the Renaissance times the vestrv and the chun-hwardens 
settled who was to build their church, and the sum he was to siK.'nd 
upon it. That done, the an*hitect was left to his own devices. No 
one cared nuicli, or could judge, what his design might be like, till it 
was too late to alter it ; and when it was finished, they c(uitented 
theuLselves with criticising it, without seeking to Remedy its defects. 

If the idea of introducing a new style had taken |K)ssession of the 
public mind at the same time that it ach)])tCMl the Mediaeval, and if a 
M(Hlern stvle of Art had l)een fostered under the circiunstances which 
have jiLst been enumenited as so favounible to the ])rogress of the 
Gothic, we mav feel sure that we should bv this time ha\e ci'eated a 
style worthy of the nineteenth eentnry, and that we should laugh in 
astonishment at any man who would now j)ro]K)se to erect a chnrch or 
other building after the pitt<;rn of the Middle Ages. 

If we add to these advantage's the knowledge of the fact that the 
rising generation of aivhitcx'ts work infinitely harder, and take far 
more interest in their work, than did the easy-going gentlemen of the 


last «;eneration, and that a class of art-workmen are fast springing 
up to aid them in carrying out their designs, it will be easily under- 
8too<l with wluit advantage the Gothic style starts on its competition 
with the Classic, in so far at least as Church Architecture is concerned. 
When all this coincides with a strong bias of religious feeling, the 
pure Classic may be considered as distanced for the time, and never, 
probably, will l)e able to comjxite with the Mediaeval again ; and thq 
common-sense stvle is not vet born which alone can free us from the 
de<n**adinir trammels of either. 

Before Pugin took the matter in hand, considerable progress had 
been made towards producing correct Gothic churches. The model . 
genemlly ado})ted was Bishop Skirlaw's chapel, at the village of that 
name in Yorkshire, wliich was published, with illustrations, in the 
fourth volume of Britton's * Architectural Antiijuities.' Like the 
model, most of these churches were in the Per})endicular style of 
Gothic, wliich was then thought the most essentially constructive and 
elegant fonn in so far especially as window-tracery was <'oncenied ; 
and such churches as St. Luke's, Chelsea, the York Pla(*e Chapel, and 
the Cathedral at Edinburgh, the Roman Catholic Cathedral, (Uasgow, 
and many othei-s, which eveiy one may recall, behmg to this style. 
These are ail Gothic in their details, and correct enough in this 
respect : Init ail fail in conseqtience of Ix'ing essentially Protestant in 
their arningenients. None of them have dc*e]) chancels, in which the 
clergy can be segregated from the laity. They have no sedilia, no 
reredos, nor any of those proj)erties now considered as essential : worse 
than this, they have generally galleries, which, though affording a 
greatly increased accommodation to the congregation, are now not 
toleral)le ; and where ])iiinted ghuss is introdu(;ed, good drawing and 
elegant colouring had to be em})loyed, after the fashion of Sir 
Joshua Reynolds's window at New College, Oxford, or West's at 
Windsor : — all which are verv incongruous with the aim of Architec- 
ture in the ])resent day. 

If we compare the two rival chiu'ches of St. Luke's, Chelsea 
(Woodcut No. 215), and St. Pancras (Woodcut No. ll^G), which were 
being erected sinuiltaneously in London, and both in dimensions and 
arrangements are very similar to one another, we shall find very little 
to choose between them according to the pn\sent doctrines. It is the 
custom to call St. Pancras Pagan, and conseijuently detestable ; but 
not even the most blind pirtisiin can fail to see in it that it is a 
Protestant ])lace of worship of the nineteenth century, which is all it 
pretends to be. It is not a good design, as was pointed out above, and 
unnecessiirily ex|)ensive ; but it fulfils all the conditions its designer 
intended, with as nuich success as St. Luke's ; and, as that is now 
rejected as im-Gothic by the purists of the present day, it ix^ally 



"bocojncs a qucstittn, in eu fiir iis tht«c two churehue urc (ronceriK-d, 
wliotlicr tlio Gottiii- or the tirwian oniaiiKiit is thu iinwt tk'jraiit, or 
ifliioli ia c<ii)ul>1t.- of pro(]t)i-iii<; tliu liutt cfTtxrl ut a (aveii oust. Tlic one 
is not It tvniplu, tlion<;h it prutcnfls to liu; uiiii tlie other is not a 
Mediujval diiirch, tluiiijili its iircliiteci fiincieil it iiiisrht lie niistnkeii 
for one; and tlicy can only, thcn-fon;, l>e i-laBHxl m fuiltiRtt, niih 
little to choose lutUL-eii Lhnm. 

Bufore tliis last chuwli, however, was coinpletwl, the imhtii.- had l»e- 
conie suffieieiitly instnietwl, 
throti^'h the lalmins of Drit- 
ton, Riektnaii, and others, 
to fiee it Wiis not (Sotliio, 
uiid demanded of the arc^lu- 
teeta sometliiiig more cor- 
nxt. Xothiiiii was easier. 
Evt'iy liltnirj- fiirnishe<i the 
rttiuisitu niiitt'rials, every 
vil]it<n!ehnn'h was a niiHlel ; 
neither thouiriir nor in- 
genuity was ri.i|uired. Any 
man ivn learn to <'0|>y, and 
e^'ery architwrt soon learned 
to do so. So that now there 
ia not a town, si^mvly a 
vilhtge in the ieiif^h and 
hreadth of the land, which 
is not furnished with one 
of those forgeriw ; and so 
cleverly is this done in most 
instances, that, if a stran<nir 
were not aware that foiycry 
ifi the fashion instead of 
beinfr a crime, he mifrht 
mistake the conuieifeit for 

1 V '? 1' •? f'^ a rwilly old Slinlijeval 

lis. w»iKruin.> Luiio'«,ciiei«». citiin-h. ThiTe aa- none 

of them, lioivever, which 
possess suffieieiit merit of their own to make it a inalU-r of iVfrret ihiit 
they cannot 1* ]»ailicnhiriBiil in this ]ilafe. 

It would Ix; as ti-dious as uniiiterestiun to enunienite even ii tenth 
of the fienx: (Visiles or seeUuleil al>l«.-ys, the Tudor jwlaii-s. tlu: Eliai- 
Ijcthan mansions or monastic villas, that dnring the last fony years 
have l)ceii Imilt in this wealthy hut nnk*s land. There may l»e nmch 
to enjoy, but there is little to admire, in these enrious nrixhic lions. 
Por our present purpose it will only l-e uecwtmry to allude to three 


great secular public buildings, which sufficiently illustrate the recent 
progress and present position of the art. 

The first of these is Windsor Castle, where restorations, anionnting 
almost to a rebuilding, were commenced in 1826, under the su}K*rin- 
tendence of Sir Jeffrey Wyatville. Nothing could be more legitimate 
than the o^xiration then attempted. The palace had been \ ery nuich 
degraded by alterations at a i)eri(xl when Gothic Archite(!ture was 
despised, and the question arose, when it was again determined to fit 
it as a Royal residence, whether to persevere in modernising it, or to 
restoi*e it in the style in which it was originally built ? The former 
course was hardly j)ossible without almost ]Hilling the castle down and 
rebuilding it ; and nothing could well have been more happy than the 
mode in which the second plan was carried out. Instead of attempt- 
ing to make it, like some modern castles, as if it really was intended 
to defend it with bows and arrows against some ancient enemy. Sir 
Jeffrey boldly adopted the idea of making it ap|>ear as if it was an 
ancient buildinjjc fitted for a Royal residence in the nineteenth centurv ; 
but he did so usinj^ onlv — externally at least — the details and forms of 
the age of the Edwards and Henrvs, so that the eve of the artist is not 
offended by any incongruities, and the man of common sense knows 
that it is a palace, and a palace only, that he is looking at. With these 
elements he not only retained, but improved, the Gothic outline of its 
original buildei's, and added a magnificence they were incajmble of 
conceiving. Internally he was not so fortunate, — })artly to meet the 
views of his Royal patron, and it may be also that funds sufficient were 
not available, but theiX3 is a poverty al)OUt some of the apartments, and 
a Belgravian drawing-room air about othei*s, which is hardly worthy 
of the place. It must, however, l)e added that few architects could 
devote to the task time sufficient to desii^n the details of e\ery room 
separately, and there did not then exist a class of qualified assistants 
capable of taking the trouble oft' his hands. Notwithstanding all this, 
no modern building of the class has so good an excuse for adopting a 
Mediaeval guise, or wears it more artistically, than this ; and no one 
more happily combines the luxury and convenience of a modern jwlace 
with the castellated form which the barbarous state of societv foi-ced 
on our forefathers. 

The second great building alluded to above is the Houses of Par- 
liament. Here it was determined to go a step further. Not only the 
exterior, but every room and eveiy detail of the interior, was to be of 
the Tudor age. Even the scul})ture was to be of the stiff formal style 
of that period : Queen Victoria and her Royal uncles and ancestoi*s 
from Elizabeth downwards were all to be clothed in the garb of the 
earlier period, and have their names inscribed in the illegible charactere 
then cun'ent. Every art and every device was to be employed to 
prove that history was a myth, and that the British soveixiigns from 

,.„. M 

Chap. T. 


Elizabeth to Victoria all reigiied More tlie two last Henrys ! Or you 
are asked to believe that Henry VII, foresaw all tlint thu Loixls uud 
Commons and Committees woiilil rcfiuirfj in thu niiifteeiitli oeiitnry, 
and provided tliia buildiii<; fur tlicir act^ohimodatioii accordiiiffly. Ttie 
Hindoos were actuated by the sume cbiliiiKli Hjiirit wlien they wrote 
their past history in tiie prophetic form of tint Piu-auas, 'I'lie trifk 
hardly deceives even the ignorant Indian, and does not certninly inijiose 
on any Englishman. 

Apart from this alsunlity, for wiiicb tlie arcbilwrt was not rusjiou. 
sible, tlie building can Imrdly be called a sutx'i'ss at all comiiicusnrable 
with its dimensions or the richness of its dworalions. An an-hitcct of 
Sir OharluB Bjirry's tuste and kiioivlttl{re conlit haiilly ha\e failed to 

1 cert ill 

perceive that 

diBjxtnsabk' to lliu di^'niiy of a 
was allowiibli' to wacritice intern 
order to oiitain tliis ; anil i^eneied 
thrnst fonvard every erLninceriri! 

mnt of reirularity and synunetry «iis in- 
f a grt"ai buildin;.', and t!i!Lt tivi|neiiily it 
iternid convenience to a (vriain extent In 
neially lliat it was k-tter to <lo s<i than lo 
domestic exigence e\iiciiv where 

it may Iw most (roLiveiiiently situateii, in order to get iliai das 
truthfuhLetis which it in now sf) mticb the fashion to cliinioni for. 
may, however, lie the wise that ISaiTV did carry the princi|'le tim 
when he made the Speaker's House atal Hla<'k lltuVa ii|Niitnient9 e 
dapliwiCes of one another, and made Iwlh of the stnne ordiiiiince as 
libraries and conLinitti/e-iitoms lietween tliein. lint having otKe;nlo: 
this principle of design, tlieru can lie no doubt hut that it slionid 1 
been carried out in all jwrts of the bnildinsr : and Jt was un[aiihin 



to adopt three towers of such different design as those which form the 
principal features of the structure, and to arrange them so unsym- 
metrically as has been done. 

The truth of the matter seems to be that Barr}', finding himself forced 
to employ the Gothic style against his own better judgment, firet adopted 
that fonn of it which most nearly approached to modern times, and most 
readily adapted itself to the uses and elegances of om* own times, and 
then used it with that symmetr}' which is indispensable to dignity in 
architectural art to as great an extent as the principles of Gothic Art 
would allow. Since Barry's tune, however, we have advanced so far 
towards absolute purism that these things would not be tolerated now. 
The style of the Parliament Houses is already obsolete, and looked on 
with horror by the present school of Gothic architects. Everything 
we have learnt or acquired since the thirteenth century is to be abso- 
lutely ignored in the New Palace of Justice, and we are to return to 
the **Saturnia regna" of these barbarous ages. The one liope for 
Architecture is that it will prove such a rechidio ad (thsurdum that the 
iashion will have passed away before it is finished. The fashion 
of the style of the Parliament Houses lasted l)etween thirty and forty 
yeare, and that is as long as any absurdity of the sort can expect to 
live in these days of activity and progress. 

Following out the principle of the river front, the central dome 
ought beyond all question to have been the princi|)al feature of the 
design, and nothing could have l)een easier than to make it so. Its 
cross sec^tion now is 70 ft. externally ; that of the Victoria Tower ^'2, 
exclusive of the angle towers. That of the Octiigon could easily have 
been increased to any desired extent ; and if the four giilleries that lead 
into it had been raised so as to be seen above the ordinary level of the 
building, and the Octagon with its increased base carried at least 100 ft. 
higher, the whole design would have gained immensely in dignity.^ 

As it now is, the Victoria Tower is 32r> ft. high to the top of the 
pinnacles ; the Clock Tower, 314 ; but the central Octagon is only 266, 
and terminates upwards in a umch more attenuated form than the 
other two. 

Besides this defect in the general arrangement of the design, the 
position of the Victoria Tower as it now stands has a fatal effect in 
dwarfing those portions of the building in immediate contact with it. 

In the original design this tower was intended to be of sL\ storeys 
in height, each storey four windows in width, and with no featni*e 
larger than those of the edifice to which it was attached. Had this 
been adhered to, the tower would have been nmch more beiuitiful than 
it now is, but, owing to an unfortunate jKXJuliarity of the architect's 

^ This arrangement is the great charm of the design of Fonthill Abbey (Woodcut 
No. 214), though there it \a marred by exuggcration in the opposite direction. 


inind, he never remained satisfied with his original designs, though 
these were generally wonderfully perfect. The consecjuence was that 
the entrance to the tower, instead of being only the height of two 
storeys of the building, as was fii*st })roposed, now rises through all 
four, and makes the adjacent House of Lords absolutely ridiculous. If 
the size of the gateway is appropriate, the Lords are pigmies. If they 
are men of ordinary stature, the gateway is nieiint for giants. Worse 
. than this, at the back of this great arch Is a little one, one-fourth its 
height, through which everything that enters under the large arch 
must j) also.^ L"n fortunately the whole tower is carried out on the 
same system (see FrontLspiece). The six original storep are enlarged 
into three, and all their jwrts exaggerated. The result of this is that 
the tower looks very much smaller than it really is, and it is difficult 
indeed to believe that it is as high as the dome of St. Paul's ; but the 
effect of this exaggeration on tne adjoining fa(,'a(le is even more disas- 
trous. It would |>erhaj)s be difficult to produce in the whole range of 
Architecture a more exipiisite })iece of surface dei;oration than the 
facade of the HoiLse of Lords, from the tower round the end of West- 
minster Hall to the Law Courts ; but as it has no horizontal lines 
sufficient to give it shadow, it wants vertical breaks to give it dignity 
and strength. This could easily have been supplied by making the 
entmnce to the House of Lords higher, and by raising it also the 
architect would have given dignity and meaning to the whole ; but by 
placing a long unbroken line of building in innnediate juxtaposition 
with an exaggerated vertical mass, he has done all that was Tjossible 
to destroy two things which his own exquisite taste had rendered 
beautiful in themselves. 

Internally nothing can well be ha]>pier than the mode in which 
Barry appropriated AVestminster Hall and its cloister as the grand 
entrances to the Parliament Houses : and the four great arteries meeting 
in a central Hall were also well worthy of his genius ; and the oc^ta- 
gon itself may be considered both internally and exk'rnally to be the 
most successful attempt yet made to build a (lothic dome. Its dimen- 
sions are practically 6() ft. diameter by 00 ft. in height :'^ and as it is 
entirely lighted from below its s])ringing, these })roportions arc singu- 
larly happy. If the central octagon at Ely, which is 10 or 1:^ feet wider, 
had been completed in the siime way, it vould have been even moixi 
beautiful, but it is doubtful whether the system could bo carried much 

* The clear height of the external tliese dimensiouH as 55 ft. by 59, but 

archway is; 50 ft. ; of the iiitc^rnul, 15 ft. the first is from capital to capital of the 

- It irt extremely clifTicnlt to quote the ' vaultiDg slmfts; the second to the urid«;r- 

dimensions in plan of a (jothic dome with side of tiie rib.s. On the ground tlie first 

anything like precision. In a pjiper re id dimension measures at least 60 ft. from 

by Mr. Edwnrd Barry to the Institute of wall to wall. 
British Architects, in June 1857, he gives 


furtlitr with ^'ood (.-ffoct. The sinailiiess of the piirts would prolmhly 
become offeiiiiive will) a dome KiO ft. dianitt^r; uiid with dimensions 
hevorid tliese it is (tifficiili to see 
liow !i (iolhie dome could Ik; i-aiTied 
out. Tills ia iiidifd one of the de- 
fects of Gothic Arehiteeluie us ap- 
pVivd to modem uses. Even the 
inuiit bigoted (iothicists xdiuit thati 
the dome is the most lieuuliful, ub 
it is the ehei(}H.-st und iiiost easily 
coiiHtructwl, fonii of i)enimiieut roof- 
ing yet iiivetitLtl ; hut they du nob 
and dure not iise it, liecHUse our 
foivfathera in the Jliddle .\fre9 
weix' i<;iKir»nt of its form und tise». 
Xo one felt the altsuitlity of this 
restniiiit more iluiii Hurry, Imt he 
did nut dare tii (ro lieyond the iiliove- 
quoted dinieiisIonH in thin diRC- 
ti<ni, ill the jiresi^nt iiistiiiKe, uiul 
so far with jn^rfii't sms-^-sn. The 
exteriur, howfviT, was I'vuii ln-lter 
thiin the interior. Nirtiiin!: is iiiur> 






any moilern desi^rn ihan tiie way in 
which the stoiirwork is eiirried up 
l«il h-a alHivL' the dome. It iswhat 
was done at Ciiianiviilk',' and was 
intendi-d at Florciirc,- aial « hat Sir 
Christ (iplier Wivii did iiuIkt clum- 
sily al St, I'aul's r^ hut is here done 
more triilhfiilly aiul mort.' eletriiritly 
than in any iif these, and only 
missi.-i jKTfeotion in so fur [liiil its 
dimeiisiuns are lut't.-ssarily small, 
and its anhitect could not i:oinljino 
the full i-oundui lines of the Chissi- 
eal or Ityzantine domi.' wilh tlie 
stniifrht lini-s t»«iiLc!i (Iciihic An 
is nnfiinnnatelv con linn I.' 


KMluiiLt nriifiiiullyii 

!..lea ir 

lit 175. iiol the writdieii tetnpi.niry woodi-n 

•- very miicli like Uiie ill inaki-sliifi nliioli liiii ri'ituily lii-iii ru- 
nt iir'i'..iirsi' ill nn nirli. r sUitvil witli ^u<'ll ]u<iii:iout> rcwniK't;. 

Chap. T. 



The bcRHty of this cciitnil dome, Iwth intcrually and fxteniallj, 
got-s as far lis «iiytiiiiiK in thu Ilonecs of Purliuineiit «ui do to 
nifiki' amends foi' the <;nn.-l niLitake Hurry niade in dL'Stn)yiiijt what 
reiiiJiini.'d of the hcautifiil eliujiul of the Bdwavds, fov which there was 
no exciwe lieyoiid that love of iiiiiforinily which, thou^li desirahle in 
Ituliaii, is hy no nie-aiiH e<|Uii]ly fo in lluchiir Ait, wliik- its loss miut 
always I'L-niiiin a sulijwt of rcjrit't. We may also ivjiivt on frenenil 
priiiei|>le« tlie ado|>tioii lit-n.' of a style in nmiiy it^jurtH misnitalik- for 
the inu'|K)se!> W wWwh these linildinpi are a]i[)lied. Hut takin<r it all in 
all, it is ]ierliai» the most swaawfiil attempt to a]i]>ly Jlediiiival An.-hi- 
twtiiR- to moiievn eivio jinriioses Hliicli has yet heeii ean-iwl out ; iijid, 
barrin<r tlie defit'ts iti (.-uinLejitiou ]K)int<.-<[ out al)ove, it is jiroliahk' that 
ilic (lifliciiltit.'S of the attelii|it are so jrreat that we eaii hardly exiject 
to see another wliieh shall he moi-e sui'cessfnl. 

The thinl Imildinjr oiKweri to illustrate the ilownwiird |ini;nvss 
of the ait is the New Museum at Oxfonl. This was desij.'rii'<l to lie 
fiotliie in eoDcejaion. Coihie in detail, and (iothie in tiriish. Notiiiu}; 
WHS III lieimy the liatwl and hateful nineteenth eeiitury, to the eiilliva- 
tion iif whose scieuirt-s it was to Ite dwiJoated. I'liforlnnaiely the style 
flelet-ieil oil ihis oijcasion wiis not EnRlish (iothie, for. the aivhit«:ts 
havinjr ^■xhall^ttK] all the s[«i'inieiis fomid in iheir hooks, and. aecord- 
iiisr to ihe new earioris of Ait. In'in;: ohlij^ed lo he orij:ina! without 
Ix-inir allowiil to invent, they have latterly in conseiiuetiee Wt-n foivnl 
to Inhtow fivrtii (^lermaiiy <ir homliiinly siieh featini-s as an- yet new 
t<> (he Kn^li^h puhliv. lienenilly sjieakin^, tla^e foivi<;]i forms ami 

VilL. 11, \ 


detiiils lire neither so beautiful uor so appropriate as our own : but if 
the architect can produce a certificate of origin, and prove that he has 
copied and not invented them, the public are satisfied that all the 
exigencies of true Art have been complied with. 

The roof of the Great Central Hall of the Oxford Museum, and the 
iron-work that supports it, are made purjX)sely clumsy and awkward. 
The Lecture-rooms are cold, draughty, and difficult to speak in. The 
liibrary is a long, ill-proportioned gallery, with a rudely-i'onstructed 
roof, painted in the crudest and most inharmonious colours : the win- 
dows glazed in the least convenient manner with the worst possible 
glass ; and the bookcases arranged, not to accommodate books, but to 
look monkish. You take a book from its press, and are astonished to 
find that men who could spend thoustmds on thousands in this great 
forgery have not reprinted Lyell's ' Geology,' or Darwin's * Origin of 
Species,' in bUvck letter, and illuminat^'d them, like the building, in 
the style of the thirteenth centur}'. It is to be ho]X'd that no stuffed 
specimen of the modern genus Felis will ])e introduc^'d into the museum, 
or we may lose the illusion to be gained from contemplating the long- 
backed specimens of the Media>val six^des which crawl round the 
windows of the library in such strangely pre-historic attitudes. The 
one really good ]X)int in the whole design is the range of pillars with 
their capitals which surround the inner court ; but they are good 
precisely because they are not Gothic. The shafts are sim]>ly cylinders 
of British marbles ; the wipitals adorned with representations of ])lants 
and animals, as like nature as the material and the skill of the artist 
would admit of, and as unlike the Gothic cats of the fayade as two 
representations of the sjime class of objects can well be made. On 
wandering further you enter what seems a kitchen of the age of that 
at Glastonbury, and find a ])rofessor, not ])ractising alchemy, Init 
repeiiting certain experiments you believe to be of modern invention ; 
and the only relief you exiKTience is to find that his thermometer and 
barometer and other instruments must, from the stvle of their orna- 
ments belong to an age long anterior to that when those im]K)stor8 
Torcelli, or Galileo, or Xewton, are said to have invented these 

If the student of Architecture gains ])Ut very little gratification in 
an artistic point of view from a visit to the Oxford Museum, he may 
at least come awav consoled with the refle<*tion that the Svndics of 
that learned Univci-sity have gone far in ])r()dncing a rfihirfio ad 
ahsiinhnn ; and that a svstem which results in such a mass of contra- 
dictions and niai.scrie.^ as are found here is too childish long to occupy 
the serious attention of grown-up men, and when the fashion passes 
away we nmy hope for something better. Till it does, Archik'Cture is 
not an art that a man of sense would care to practise, or a man of taste 
would c^U'e to studv. 


The great lesson we liave yet to learn before progress is again 
possible is, that Archoiology is iwt Architecturp. It is not even Art in 
any form, but a Science, as interesting and instructive as any other ; 
but from the very nature of things it can neither Injcome an art, nor 
in any way take the place of one. Our present mistake is, first, in 
insisting that our architects must l)e archaeologists ; and fancying, in 
the st^cond place, that a man who has mastered the science is necessarily 
a proficient in the art. Till this error is thoroughly exploded, and 
till Architecture is practised only for the siike of supplying the greiitest 
amount of convenience attainable, combined with the most appropriate 
elegance, there is no hope of improvement in any direction in which 
Architecture has hitherto progressed. 

As the case at present stands, the Gothic style has obtained entire 
possession of the Church : and any architect who would ])roiK)se to 
erect an ecclesiastical edifice in any other style would simply be laughed 
at. It is employed also, exclusively or nearly so, for schools and 
parsonage-houses — generally, where\er the clergy have influence this 
style is adopted. If it is true that the (Jothic i)eriod was the best 
and purest of the Christian (Imrclu and that we are now in this resj^ect 
exactly where we were Ix^tween the thiileenth and fifteenth centuries, 
this is jx^ifectly logical and coiTect ; but if we have progressed, or been 
refined, or take a different view of these matters from the one then 
taken, the logic will not hold good ; but this the architect is not called 
upon to decide. 

On the other hand, the Classical styles still retain a strong hold 
on town-halls and nnmicii){il buildings. Palaces are generally in this 
style, and club-houses liave hitherto successfully resisted the encroach- 
ments of the enemv : and Init verv recentlv all the domestic^ and 
business buildings of our cities were in the non-Gothic styles. In 
this country, mansions and villas are pretty equally divided between 
the two, and it is difficult to estimate which is gaining ground at this 
moment. Generallv it may be said that the Gothic is the style of the 
clergy, the Classical that of the laity ; and though the buildings of 
the latter are the most numerous, those of the former are the most 
generally architectural. 

For the philosophical student of Art it is of the least ]X)ssible 
consequence which may now be most successful in encroaching on 
the domains of its antagonist. He knows that both are wrong, and 
that neither can consecpiently advance the cause of true Art. His 
one hojx; lies in the knowledge that there is a " tertiiim qml^'' a style 
which, for want of a better name, is sometimes called the Italian, 
but should l>e called the Common Sense style. This, never having 
attained the completeness which debars all fuither progress, as was 
the case in the purely Classical or in the perfected Gothic styles, 
not only admits of, but insists on, progress. It courts borrowing 



principles and forms from either. It can use either pillars oi 
pinnacles as may Ikj refiuirecl. It admits of towers, and spires, oi 
domes. It can either indulj2:e in plain walls, or pierce them with 
innumerable windows. It knows no guide hut common-sense ; it 
owns no master luit true taste. It may hardly l)e possible, liowever, 
because it requires the exercise of these ({ualities : and more than 
this, it demands thought, where copying has hitherto sufficed ; and it 
courts originality, which the i)resent system i*epudiates. Its gi'eatest 
merit is that it admits of that progress by which alone man has 
hitherto ac<^omplished anything gi*eat or good, either in Literature, in 
Science, or in Art. 

[A Common Sense Style. — Our author is only exemplifying his 
customary straightforward way of thinking when at the close of this 
chapter he so boldly claims for *' the Italian " the recognition due not 
merely to a " Common Sense '' stvle, but to the onlv mode that deserves 
that appirently simple title with relation to the re(|uirements of the 
pivsent age. At the time he wrote thus " the Battle of the Styles " was 
at its height ; and his argument would be that '* the Classic "" of the one 
camj) and **the Gothic" of the other were etpially unsuitable to the 
time the'i jKissing, and etpially irrational in their attitude towards each 
other as rivals before that tribunal of public opinion whose judgment 
they were both so noisily cliallenging. In this view of the case he Siiw 
in *' the Italian," as an abstraction, a connecting or even combining 
formula, possessing all the useful elements of both Classic and (lOthic, 
and being in itself moi'e common-sensible than either. So far so well. 
But what does he mean bv ** the Italian " ? Is it the stvle of Barr\'*s 
then j)0]nilar works, such as the Travellers' Club-house (No. ;^r)()). Bridge- 
water House (No. :^r)2), Halifax Town Hall (No. :^r)G), and ClumlxT 
(No. :^>r)4) ? If so, here again the student must l)e invited to think for 
himself, and m:iy esjjecially incpiire whether this " Italian " is not in 
reality meixily a single mode in a far wider province of design. To 
suggest that the fonnula of the gigantic (ireek portico of the British 
Museum, as the leading idea of extreme Classic, goes too far in one 
direction, and the gigantic Victoria Tower too far in the other, is easy 
enough ; but if any one is asked to proceed to show any ** Italian " 
system of design which not only avoids both of these extremes, but 
connects them by oc^nipying all the serviceable intervening ground, 
— cwnbining (so to siK'ak) Westminster Hall with the Albert Hall, and 
AVt^stminster Abbey with St. Paul's — this is a proix)sition that may well 
startle the practiciil designer. At the same time we may he sure that 
our author had a shrewd argument in his mind, although he may have 
been unable to express it in technical logic. A ]M(Kleni European style 
(he would say), a connnon sense mode for working out any architectund 
prol»leni for any modern Euro])ean j>ui'])osis there must of necessity be. 
— Granteil. — Call it '• Itidian " for excusjible and indeed obvious reasons. 


— Granted agiiiu. — Then try (he would add) whjit can be done with this 
style by the mere exercise of common sense, and the problem will solve 
itself and the common-sensibleness of the mode l)e manifested. 

Of couree the term *' connnon sense " Ls vague and unscientific ; 
he means what is otherwise called — cjuite as vaguely — good sense, the 
avoidance of those pei*sonal whims, or incidental fashions, or unconscious 
traditional affectations, or too ambitious jn-etensions, over which all 
artists are, and always have been, prone to stumble. Now the argu- 
ment is no doubt well meant, but what does it amount to after all ? 
Merely this, that the abstract Modem European style — Italian in so 
far that it had its rise in Italv — is the natural or " common sense " 
style for that modern Euroyjean phase of civilisation of which it forms 
a part. Without any such jn'ocjess of reasoning, its universjil acceptance 
and evolution throughout modern Euro]K.' ])ro\t'S its right to reign, and, 
if we s[)eak strictly in the tlieorutical abstract, no more need be said. 
But the concrete (juestions at issue are still untouched; namely, how far 
this accepted style has been abused and adulterated in jJiMctice, and 
by what ])r()cess of reform its character for connnon sense, or good sense, 
or authentic suitability is to be rehabilitated. One thing at least may 
be said: — it is not by '* reviving " exotic forms of ancient Art for 
amusement, not l)y the encouragement of ex]>eriniental mas(|uerade, not 
by the acceptance of histrionic and bizari'e blandishments, that the 
connnon sense of i^racious building can ever be arri\'ed at. Revivals 
|)erisli with the using : niasijuerade ja'ovokes ridicule when tbe daylight 
shines upon it : and in Art, as in all else, tbe bistrio is oidy a bistrio, not 
a hero. Periiai)s tbe best way in wbicb to invoke tbe influence of 
connnon sense in tbe architecture of our modern England (a country 
somewhat given to boasting of its common sense) is to in\ite some of 
our arcbitects to be a irood deal less eauer as " ui'eat artists" after 
academical (or non-academical) dis])lay, and a very great deal more 
piinstaking as good workei's in tbe elaboration of those sini]»le graces of 
proportion and detail wbicb always constitute tbe most enduring merits 
of any arcbitectund comiK)sition, and for whose absence no amount of 
academicalism or of enthusiastic non-acjiidemicalism, or of noveltv, or of 
courage of any sort, can ever c()mj)ensiite. — Ed.] 

[Tkk Ex(ajsH (JovEiiNMENT AND THE Arcuitects. — It is pretty 
well understood, and ought not to be ignored, that for many years ]mst 
the representatives of the (lovernment in London have been as a rule 
seriously dissatisfied with the architei;ts whom they have em])loyed in 
the execution of great ])ubli(^ buildings. In reply to such complaints, 
it has been argued that the typical English gentlemen who control 
Parliament and who (as DLsraeli puts it) are ''devoted to field spoits, 
know no language but their own, and ne\er read," are, in respect of 
architecture esj)ecially, utter Philistines or utilitarians, whose supreme 
authority over tbe building o])erations of tbe nation, when compared 


with the more enlightened iK^haviour of continental governments, is a 
misfortune which has to l)e regarded as " part of the price we pay for 
our lil)erties." No doubt there is a good deal of truth in this, and 
mucli cause for regi'et sometimes in the ch'cumstance that the artistic 
affairs of such a luitionality as oura are not in some degi-ee committed 
to the care of jxirsons selectcnl for the purpose on account of actual 
acquaintance with artistic matters. But on the other hand it is still 
desirable to discover whether there is anything in the jiosition of pro- 
fessional arcliitecture in England which goes to justify the discontent 
of a whole class of men whose claim to rei)resent the sound sense of the 
country cannot be disputed. Is it in solder truth the inherent 
Philistinism of British legislators that has produced the unsatisfactory 
character of our public edifices, or is it any nonsensical attitude on the 
part of architects that has caused a Philistine policy to be adopted by 
the Legislature in self-defence ? The answer of a great many very well 
meaning and very well qualified pereons will be that the fault lies in a 
great measure with the architects. Take the case of any public com- 
petition of designs on a gi'and scale of which the rciider may happen to 
possess a personal recollection. Can he siiy with any sincerity that 
common sense was a marked characteristic of the most prominent 
drawings submitted ? Take again the case of any great public building 
which has been executed in London, from the days of the British 
Museum and the Houses of Parliament to the present time. Can he 
say that common sense is a leading motive in its comjK)sition ? The 
new Post Office in the City is an instance in ix)int. ^lost architects 
were offended when that im}X)rtant edifice was not only projected 
without a comiKitition, but can-ied into execution without any archi- 
tectural direction except that of the unconspicuous officials of the 
Public Works Department. It was pronounced, even by the most 
moderate men, to Ixi an op|)ortunity tlirown away. Now the exterior 
design is certainly not of those iwlished artistic pro}K)rtions which 
would have cost nothing but pains and skill. The interior may perhaps 
be woi-se in that resi)ect than the exterior. But comjvare the l)uilding as 
an organic device with the old Post Office on the other side of the way, 
a work of which Sir Robeit Sniirke was considered to be justly proud ; 
or witli the same architect's British Museum ; or with Barry's Houses 
of Parliament ; or with Street's Law (^ourts. In each of these cases, 
how much of the common sense of careful disj)osition and expressive 
appropriateness, of the re|X)se of usableness, of the ind(jscri])able com- 
pleteness of i)erfec^t convenience, has been delil)erately and (as many 
very good jx.'0])le would plainly say) maliciously compromised for the 
sake of — what ? No one knows what, except academical architects; and 
even they are not of one mind about it. In a word, the idea that has 
ba'ome fixeil in the minds of such men of business as are at the head of 
our national affairs seems to be ver}' much like tliis : — that an English 


architect, when entrusted with any important work, begins at the wrong 
end, and, as an inevitable consequence, misses the projxir objc»ct of the 
enterprise ; l)egins with style, fashion, mascpierade, histrionics, or what- 
ever we may choose to call his j)erverted desire for sj)urious display, goes 
up at the ])eginning like the ro'jket and comers down at the end like the 
stick. This is, no doulft, putting the case strongly ; but it requires to 
be put strongly, for there cannot Ik* any reason why English architects 
and the English Government should not be able to act in harmony, if 
the architects will only consent to do their work (as the phrase now goes) 
scientifically, Ixiginning with the skeleton and ending with the skin. 
There is a very pretty motto which has been j)layed ui)on for many 
yeai's by the junior architectural society of London, *' Design in Beauty, 
Build in Truth."" Does the maxim '' Design in Beauty," in being 
placed foremost in order, signify something which may be a weakness 
in our architectural ])hilosoj)hy ? True Art seems rather to bt; to design 
in truth as the initial principle, and to see to concurrent grace as the 
consecutive. To sketch on ]>ii[)er first a beaiuiful ideal edifice, and then 
construct it honestly and no more in stone, is (juite another thing ; 
and such a system may surely become the source of infinite mis- 
adventure. — Ej).] 

[The Rkiht Use of Precedents in Style. — The academical 
doctrine which prevailed so long in the pi'actice of ^lodern Architecture, 
and most notably in England, that the desii,nier was bound to produce 
'* authority" for every jKHtion of his design in the form of ancient 
precedent, is never attem])ted to be justified now in any sense which 
seems to involve the idea that a mysterious sujx'riority is necessarily the 
attribute of antiipiity. One of the great (ierman thinkers expresses a 
sound priii(i|)le when he says, '' We ourselves tire the true ancients ; our hei-s were voun^fer than we." At the same time, this form cf 
words itself suggests a meaning, esi>ecially aj)plical)le to Ait, which is the 
very op]>osite of what we at first sight accept : for, if the ancients were 
younger, their judgment was less sophisticated. The e-^^pccial charm of 
the Art of the ancient Greeks, for exam])le, is, in spite of its 
primitiveness, its incom|)iirable freshness : they *' walked with the gods 
in the resplendent air," with the elastic ste|) of youth, in the ineffable 
vitality of the s])ringtime of genius. But a similar juvenescence is 
clearly discoverable also, in various forms and various tlegrees, at other 
e|x)clis of art-history, in painting and sculpture, in iM)etry and music, 
in archit'-'cture itself, and in several of the minor arts. Xor is this all ; 
for every aire of jmv merit, in whatever art, will be found to have 
l)e(jueathed to us its (juota of happy inspirations. And this is the case 
in arch itei!t lire, ]>erha|)S, so much more than in almost any other art, 
that the inheritance whi(;h has thus descended to us has be<.'ome 
indispensably iLseful in our own day, in view of the enlarged extent of 
the individual architect's ojx'rations, and the haste in which they have 


to be perfoiined. He is obviously entitled and expected to avail 
himself to the utmost of his knowledge of examples, just as the votary 
of any other pursuit of a scientific or systematLsed character must begin 
where his predecessors left off. Copying, in this sense, is inevitalile ; or 
otherwise each individual would have to attempt the absurd task of 
inventing a manner for himself. In other words, a style in architecture, 
or even one form of a style, is a product of intellect which is found to 
reijuire the co-operation of a multitude of experimenters during a long 
period of time ; and its acceptance when appropriate, with the 
acceptance of all its details, is copyism unavoidable and as matter-of- 
course. But to copy in this way ought surely to involve the obligation 
to attempt an improvement u|X)n the precedent ; and to achieve this 
end every designer is bound to do his l)est. Men of average ability 
will leave things a very little advanced ; inferior men will do nothing, 
or less ; but the superiors of the day may always " leave their footprints 
on the sands of time." 

Piracy, and e^'en forgery, are ungracious temis that have occasionally 
been used l)v critics of modern architecture. Of coui'se there are such 
offences in the abstract ; but what are they in pmctice ? To copy 
from the books is not forircrv ; to imitate another man's work is not 
piracy. On the contrary, if we regard the current works of the day in 
the generous light of co-oi)erative exjKTLinents for the advancement of 
the art at large in the comnumity, or throughout the world, every 
designer is in duty bound to study tlie exi)erinients of others, not only 
past, but present, and to do his utmost to im])rove u|X)n them And it 
is obvious that this, in a somewhat different form, is exactly what takes 
place, and fre(|uent!y almost unconsciously. Not only d(x."S the pupil 
adopt the manner of his master, and the admirer the manner that he 
admires, but the rival studies the rival's work for the verv stike of 
rivalry. So far so well, and the lex non srripfa of honesty and fair 
dealing may be trusted always to assert itself. But when this law is 
violated, piracy may certainly Ix; charged, and so may forgery. Piracy 
in architecture is the stealing of another's brain-work as if in the face 
of the public and by violence. It cannot be prevented, but there is tliis 
consolation, that in these dap the particular circumstances to which 
new buildings have to be accommodated are so multifarious, and the 
feeling of personal self-sufficiency in most architects so i)ronounced, 
that not much in the way of any imlpible kind of appropriation has to 
be contended with. Then, as regards forgery, the chief ]»ractical 
question seems to be whether we are to apply the ugly word to the work 
of " the architect to the tnide." If so, what are we to sav of the work of 
the " managing clerk " ? At any rate the use of such terms to exi)ress 
disapproval of mere copying, or of the practice of counterfeit, is 
certainly not to be encouraged. — Ed.] 





[The Epoch of 18;"il. — (See first the artniment on this epoch in 
the Preface. ) The condition of the English ai'chitectural world at head- 
quarters in IHol may l>e thus briefly desc-ribed. The most prominent 
architects were Cockerell, Barr}', Hardwick, Smu'ke, members of the 
Royal Academy ; Donaldson and Tite, leadere at the Institute ; Pugin 
and Scott, chiefs of the advancing Gothic school ; and Digby Wyatt 
and Owen Jones, ornamentalists. Blore, Burn, and Burton (i*etired), 
also occupied a high ]X)sition, and Pennethorne was the last official 
archit<.rt to the Government. Beresford-Hoj)e, Parker, Ruskin, and 
Fergusson, weiv conspicuous literary amateure. 

Barr}' had l)een busily occupied for some eleven or twelve years on 
the givat work of the day, the jweudo-Gothic Houses of Parliament. 
Cockerell was delivering his gniceful dilettantist lectures at the Royal 
Academy, and was known all over Eiu*ope as the English representative 
of exti*eme (ireek refinement. Donaldson, the founder and indefatigable 
manager of the Institute of British Architects, was at his best ; not 
much of a working architect, but Professor at University College, and 
exponent in general of the lighter literature of the art and the more 
gracioiLs interests of the profession at home and abroad, unwearied in 
corR»spondence, and genial jus he was biL<^y every day. Tite, although 
essential! v a commercial magnate and a devotcHi of mere wealth, and 
chiefly, indeed, a " comjx^nsation-surveyor '' and ally of auctioncHjrs, 
(eventually a ^lemlK'r of Parliament of very liberal views, commanding 
on that score the honour of knighthood), was nevertheless a man of 
substantial knowledge, artistic and anticjuarian, and of powerful 
character as a stalwart upholder of the practical art and science of the 
high-class ordinary architect. Scott was young, Iwginning to l)e busy 
with new churches. Pugin, the author of a stormy little book called 
" The True Principles of (Jothic Archite(;tm'e/' a wild, monastic, sea- 
loving ec(^entric, who had joined the Chiu\;h of Rome in honour of 
Mediieval Art, was still publishing fierce diatrilxjs against the mockeries 
and shams of modern design, whilst diligently and with infinite 
enthusiasm exploring every nook and cninny of anti([ue ec<?lesia8tical 


work, from grand architectural ruins to painted prayer-books and 
embroidered petticoats. Sharpe of Lancaster had just started, amidst 
much controversy, a new classification of Gothic Architec^ture by 
historical periods instead of discrimination of forms. Lastly, Owen 
Jones and Digby Wyatt, apparently the least in importance, were in one 
respect the chief ; for they represented in earnest practicability, as 
Pugin did in something more than earnest impracticability, the advent 
of that enlargement of the whole scope of Architectural Art which was 
to become characteristic of the new generation. 

The precise condition of architectural doctrine in 1851 may at the 
present day seem very peculiar. Professor Cockerell, whose personal 
taste was of the most fiistidious Hellenic school, thought it his duty, 
not to himself, but to his work as a public teacher, to be what he 
called "catholic" — meaning thereby libemlly, if vaguely, eclectic — 
admiring everything that he could, and despising nothing at all. 
Here are some of his expressions at the time : " The grammar and 
syntax of the art is to be acquired by a diligent study of the great 
writers Vitruvius, All3erti, SerUo, Palladio, Vignola, and Delorme." 
Again, " Vitruvius quotes from forty-one Greek writers whose writings 
are lost : his work is the great text-book of anti<iuity/' But on 
the other hand he was able to assure his students for their comfort that 
" the entiixj manner of Gothic construction would be found in the rules 
of Vitruvius," and he could tell them in the Siinie breath that the 
gabled apse of a Herefordshire church was " symbolical of the Crown of 
Thorns," with much more of the siime sort which it would be cruel to 
quote l)ecause of the obvious distress of the most courtly of academical 
lec^turers under tbe incomprehensible eclecticism which his sense of 
duty was forcing u|>on him in evil days. Donaldson, again, was never 
weary of declaring in the very plainest of language how " the authority 
of antiquity " was something very much of the su])ernatural, if not even 
the divine ; and one of his favourite projects was to ac<(uire for the 
Institute Libniry, as a supreme and all-sufficient store of wisdom, 
a collection of all the editions of Vitruvius. Following such teaching 
as this, not only the ordinary run of architectural practitionei's, but the 
best of them, simply copied and counterfeited anything which they could 
find in the books to suit the purix)se of the moment: and their criticism 
of each other's work consisted for the most ])art in calling for 
'* precedent," whether in Classic or in Gothic, as the one thing nt.'cdful. 
The Classic designs thus ])roduced had at least the advantage of l)eing 
vernacular ; for their mode was a phase of the acce])ted mode of three 
hundred yeare, and careful proportion and detail will cover many sins 
of style ; but the Gothic was generally odiously nieiigre and anomalous, 
and all the more so when the designer was urgently denouncing the 
counterfeits of his Classic brethren onlv to substitute his own. 

It was upon this ground that Piigin took up his ]K>8ition. What 


he demanded was simply that the tnie principles of Gothic Art should 
be studied and acteil u])on l)ecause in their very nature they were wholly 
true, and in no way permissive of counterfeit, whether in respect of art 
or of construction. He would copy the Mediiieval work, of course ; but 
he would copy it correctly in the spirit of the original, and not as a 
sham. The Classic he would not copy at all : it was anathema ; and 
here was the very potent and intelligible reason: — the Mediaeval was 
English, and it was also Christian ; the Classic was only Italian and 
?agan, confessedly exotic and confessedly heathen ; and what more need 
be said ? This contnist was largely accepted by young and thoughtful 
men, and was indeed gradually l)eing acted upon, more es|x?cially in the 
more simple and plain kind of church-work which favoured the 
experiment ; and out of this there naturally enough came before long 
"the Battle of the Stvles." The too-liberal eclecticism of Coc^kerell and 
Donaldson dissolved into a direct antagonism l)etween the faint-hearted 
adherents of the Italian method of Modern Europe on the one side, and 
on the other the contem])tuous advocates of the antecedent pre- Raff aelite 
method, which was vehemently declared to Ihj the one genuine and good 
old EurojKian method, for some time suj)erseded by a spurious and bad 
method, but a stvle with life in it still if it had room to breathe. 

Ruskin followed Pugin, and did a grwit deal to ]>oj)uIarLse the new 
doctrine, although in a ditferent form. In this year isril, he was 
accentuating the doc^trines of his ** Seven Lami)s of Architecture " by 
publishing his '* Stones of Venice.'' He was not an architect in any 
sense of the term, but a rhetorician ; and in the criticism of 
Architecture he was almast less than an amateur, his enthusiasm for 
the art, in the eves of workini; architects, lieing onlv an affectation. 
His principles might ])erhai>s Ik* true, but they were so va]K)rised by the 
heat of style and elo juence as to l)e mere intangible fumes of principles. 
His books were pretty re<uling, no doubt, for idle ])eople : but what 
could any architect say to such words as these ? — " If I should succeed, 
as I hope, in nuiking the Stones of Venice tonchstones, and detecting, 
by the mouldering of her marble, ]K)ison more subtle than ever was 
betrayeii by the rending of her crystal " — surely this could not be th.e 
way to regenerate the ])ractic4il drawing-board I Nor indeed was Venice 
the place for making the attempt, except in a dream. Ruskin's writings 
have been extremely, extravagantly |X)pular with sentimental |)eople, 
for great merits of their own — '* greatest when maddest," it has l)een 
said — but his influence u|)on the craftsmansliip of Architecture has 
been very small, if any. Nevertheless, although he has himself in his 
later days expressed a wish that he could obliterate half of all that he 
has AVTitten, certainly it may be fairly answered that the world would be 
Sony to lose what he has wTitten on Architectnre. Working architects 
must l)e |x,Tmitted to siy they cannot make sense of it : but that the 
intention of evciy word of it has l>een to elevate and enhance the 


abstract appreciation of the art not one of them would wish to 

Fergusson was a wyHqt of an entirely different order. In 1851, 
when Iliiskin was giving to the i)ublic his visionary " Stones of Venice," 
Fergusson was pubUshing (after his volumes on India and Jerusalem), 
*' The Palaces of Nineveh and Persepolis Restored." Although as yet 
his chosen province of architectural study seemed to be the antiquities 
of the East, he already showed the l)ent of his mind to be, unlike 
Ruskin's, all in the direction of j)ersevering and plodding exploration. 
He was no literary juggler, Imt a hard-headed analytical critic ; 
superficial to a certain extent in the severe eye of the working designer, 
but, so far as the study of the surface could go, a sober and sound 
<:;xix)nent of whatever his pitient research might discover. While 
Ruskin was wheeling in empty air, Fergusson was laboriously treading 
tf^rra firma. He had not made his mark as Ruskin had, but he was 
neither unknown nor unnoticed. 

The writings of Whewell, Willis, and Parker, with some others of 
the same class, as anticjuaries in Ecclesiastical Architecture, can'ied at 
this time more weight than was always desiral)le, but their practical 
influence on the art was small. The name of Petit also was becoming 
known, a clergyman who hap|)ened to ]K)ssess, not merely enthusiasm 
for Gothic, but, what was at that time rare, a mastery of the |xjncil 
as a sketcher. 

But a still more conspicuous name was that of Beresford-Hope. 
While a student at tlie Universitv not verv lon*r before this time, 
he had made himself prominent in connection with the celebrated 
** Cambri<lge Camden Society,'' which, although in full co-o]K'ration 
with the great ** Oxford Movement," occnpied itself more with the 
development of the material arts of so-called ecclesiology, than with the 
more dangerous resuscitation of old doctrine and disci])! ine. Although 
Pugin had l>een earned by his Siwage ec^centricity ([uite beyond the line 
of denominational demarcation wliich the Caml)ridge Camden Society, 
with all its enthusiasm, was determined to maintain, yet in everything 
that l)elonged to architectural criticism, lIo]Xi was an ardent supporter 
of the " true principles " of the Gothic ideal : and by his distinguished 
social position he was enabled so successfully to assume the duties and 
responsibilities of a representative ecclesiologist, that in \X^A he had 
already ac(|uired a high character amongst Churchmen. With him, 
(Gothic Art was not a matter of opinion or taste, but of consecrated 
Christian order : and in this he was so wanuly supported by many able 
aiul earnest architects, that they were already ac<iuiring the imj)ortance 
of a reforming pirty in the })rofession under his i)ei*sonal leadership. 

The Inteuxatioxal Exhibitiox. — The spirit of vital change 
which was producing at this time such men as Pugin, Ruskin, Fergusson, 
and Hope, in the field of Academical Architecture, was of course ojKTating 


likewise in other provinces of artistic and industrial enterprise. The 
Philistinism of half a dozen generations of English people of respect- 
ability was alx)ut to Ixj assailed, and, in a word, the Internationa 
Exhibition of 1851 was to become a fresh starting-point for the Arts o 
the Victorian Age. 

The name of the Prince Consort must now be introduced. Only 
ten years l>efore he became associated with this celebrated undertaking, 
he had made his entr\' into London society in the cons])icuou8 and 
trying position of the youthful husband of a youthful queen. As a 
carefully educated German patrician, and a man of the highest aspira- 
tions after ideal and philosophical beneficence, as well as practical 
refinement and culture, the attitude which he promptly assumed was 
well indicated by the popular notion that he had been allowed by the 
Government to take charge of philanthropy and scholarship in return 
for his keeping clciir of |)olitics. Literature, Science, and Art at once 
accepted him for a royal patron : and it nuist l)e confessed that they 
had long been nuich in need of such patronage. Two incidents in 
particular may be here noticed : namely, that he was apiK)inted to 
preside over a royal connnission for embellishing the new Palace of 
Parliament, and tliat the Society of ^Arts contrived to secure him for 
their president. It was thus that he was jMjrsuaded to ILsten to the 
projects of Henry Cole, out of which, so patronised, the Great Exhibi- 
tion was eventually devcloiied. 

Cole had been known before this as a fugitive writer on the 
productions of industrial Art ; and recently, in conjunction with one or 
two adherents, he had conceived the idea tliat, if an Industrial Congress 
of the world at large could be brought about in London, the results 
must be sn(;h a.s these : — the brotherhood of all civilised nations in Art 
and Science would be manifested, to the great advantiige of all : the 
supremacy of England in her own specialties would be manifested to 
her own still greater advantage ; the imiKU'tance of *' the minor arts," 
as emphatically not the poor relations of the Academical .Arts but their 
equals, would be discerned, to the advanUige of all intelligent industry, 
and this esixicially in England, where they were chiefly neglected : and 
sooner or later, tlie Government would be obliged to establish an efficient 
organisation for the much-needed advancement of public taste, as a 
moral and no less a commercial influence of the utmost value. Cole 
and his friends, few in niunber and of little imix)itance, could never 
have accomplished nuich in this direction by their own unaided 
endeiivours ; but by the hapj)y artifice of utilising the organisation of 
the somewhat obsolete Scx'iety of Arts, and i>ei*suading the Prince to 
place himself at its head — men and money flowing in abundantly then — 
they speedily accomplished all that could be desired. 

** South Kensington,'' as a department of the ( Jovermnent, eventually 
came into existence under the dictatorship of Cole ; and its success, in 


spite of many drawbacks, has been perfect, and the Museum is supreme. 
Public taste has been not only advancing ever since, but radically changing; 
and, amongst the rest. Architecture has been expanding its embrace more 
and more from year to year till it now includes in the widest sense the 
whole enn)ire of " Aix'hitectural Art." Although much has yet to be done 
in detail, the multifarious industries of furnishing, decorating, and adorn- 
ing buildings are now so effa'tually groujxid in the public view around the 
central industry of the great Building Art of history, that the narrow 
and exclusive, and indeed spurious dignity of academicalism has greatly 
disiipixiared, and architectural work is now finding its shortest way to 
the appreciation of the Englisli jxiople, even the cultured classes, by 
following the lead of '* the minor arts '' which the |)eo])le more readily 
understand. And so it has come al)Out for the present that our fashion- 
able architectural manner — triviallv called the *' Queen Anne " — is in 
its true character merelv the manner of the minor arts of decoration 
and furnishing, and of hric-a-brac ; crude and feeble as yet, and 
transient, but destined, let us hope, to piss before long into some 
more miLscular and more jKTuianent style, to the better credit of the 
imjx)rtant movement which it represents. 

At the Siune time, as regards the higher order of building-design we 
are not without cause for congratulation. The modern Classic style, 
which Ls, as it has alwavs been since its oriirination, the standard mode 
on the continent of Euro|)e, is constantly ])ractised in England with 
sufficiently creditable success ; and the Revived Mediaeval, now confined 
entii*ely to ecclesiastical work, has lost nothing conspicuously in that 
branch since the days of Pugin, while it has gained gre^xtly by the 
abolition of the whole department of *' Secular Gothic,"' of whi(*h the 
London Law Courts, a most able but most inappropriate work, is the 
most ambitious effort, and the last. 

Arc'IIItkctural Work ix 18r)l. — 1\\ the beginninir of the year 
18r»l the |X)sition of cuiTent and recent architectural business was this. 
The Palace of Parliament had so far assumed an effective a})i)earance 
externally as to ])resent to the public eye a design at once exceedingly 
magnificent in the mass, graceful in proj)ortion, bright in aspect, and 
almndantlv eletrant in detail ; somewhat monotonous Jind meretricious 
to the few purists who esteemed vigour and variety to be essential to 
gof)d Gothic, but, with the ordinary observer, gaining instead of losing 
by the rich sim])licity of its majesty. There can be no doubt that the 
com}K)sition of this truly splendid building was in onscrnhle Barry's, but 
in detail largely Pugin's ; in fact, Pugin was still in charge privately of 
the task of '* endowinir the work with artistic merit "" of that archaeological 
khid which Barry could not accomplish by his own so far untutored 
although ever-graceful hand. Pugin had assisted BaiTy with his Gothic 
knowledge as far back as the time of the Birmingham Granmiar School 
in IH;):^, and doubtless on other occasions since then when requii'ed ; and 


nothing, perhaps, was more interesting in the career of that wapvard 
enthusiast than the loyal devotion to the cause of the Mediaeval Revival 
with which he subordinated his own powerful iiersonality to that of 
Barr}' throughout so many years of jmtient labour in the development — 
imixiifect as he must have thought it — of the mastei-piece of the time. 
Neither is it to Ixi doubted that his influence was a most imjx)rtant 
factor in the conception of those schemes for a resuscitiition of the 
sulwidiary arts which were already ac(]uiring substance and force in 
Barry's name, for the supplementary completion of the interior of the 
great edifice. 

In ecclesiastical work a few men like Pugin himself and Scott were 
getting into good jmictice to good purpose artistically ; whilst the 
ordinary majority of so-called Gothic architects throughout the country 
— almost all eclecttic in the sense of being ready to design in any style 
whatever to order — were more or less occupied, in churches and schools, 
upon a very poor system of imitation, using '* Norman, Early English, 
Decorated, and Perix^ndicular " quite at random, as the fancy struck 
them or their clients, and always satisfied if they could achieve the most 
sujx'rficial resemblances on paper, without the slightest attempt to deal 
with those *' true principles " of structural motive which were quite 
lx.*yond their sight and knowledge. Amongst the most commonly 
admired of the recently built churches was the one by Scott at 
Camlierwell ; but Pugin's im]>racticability of pei-sonal temperament 
and his demonstrative repudiatioji of the national form of ix^ligion 
necessarily i)revented his material success, besides that his manner of 
design was always less graceful than authentic. Of work that was not 
Classic, but scaively as yet Gothic, there was a good deal in hand in the 
way of what was very fairly called Elizabethan, in public institutions, 
country mansions, and miscellaneous provincial buildings ; whilst the 
'* Secuilar Gothic " of later fame was just emerging from the 
*' Carpenter's Gothic " of the previous age, and assuming something 
like a character of solidity, although s(;arcely of gi*ace. 

Turning from this to Classic work, we find the following examples 
recent or current. The British Museum, not quite out of the hands of 
the Sniii*kes (Sydney Ixiing now in charge as the successor of his 
brother Sir ]{()l)ert), was at least one of the most monumental designs in 
the norld. The New Buckingham Palace, Blore's weak Italian frontage 
to Nash's nuu?li iKjtter Greek (juadranglo, was not admired by anybody. 
The ]\Inst'uni of Geology in Piccadilly and Jennvn Street, by Penne- 
thorne, was much liked — a simple, massive, and graceful work of 
nnaft'ecied ability. The Treasury, by Barry, showed an exceedingly 
handsome fayade made out of Soane's old colonnade by the simple 
artifice of attaching it bodily to a new-fashioned wall. The Chib-houses 
by Barry, Burton, and Sniirke in Pall ^fall were regarded as models of 
Italian taste. The Army and Navy Club-house was just finished, a very 


effective but strictly imitative reproduction of a well-known palazzo in 
Venice, and so acknowledged ; the name of the architect, successful in 
a public competition, l)ein«r professionally unrecognised. The Royal 
Exchange, by Tite, displayed a fine academical Eoman portico, masking 
a substantial but commonplace Italian block of business esUiblishments,. 
with a good cortile within. (Donaldson had won the competition with 
a similar design of superior character, prepared for him in Paris, but 
was ousted by a flagi'ant City job ; and Cockerell also had been 
gi'ievously disappoint^jd.) The London and Westminster Bank in the 
City was greatly admired as one of CockerelFs simplest but best works ; 
Tite being " associated '' with him hei*e after the commercial manner^ 
but claiming no share in the artistic merit. Dorchester House in the 
Park was in hand, by Vulliamy, and was deemed an elegant design ; 
and Bridgewater House, by Bany, dates from the same period as one 
of the great architect's best works. Victoria Street, Westminster, and 
Cannon Street in the City, were the new thoroughfares of the day, but 
neither of them ac(]uired artistic inijK)rtance. The fa9ade of the new 
Station of the Great Northern Railway at King's Cross, designed, or 
rather non-designed, by theenghieer, was regarded with shame as a demon- 
strative manifestation of the most absolute and abased Philistinism. 
St. George's Hall, Liveqwol, on the contrary — c<irried on by Cockerell 
since the death of Elnies — was acce})ted with the univei'sal acclamation 
of all classes, as an ailLstic gem woithy of the commercial pride of old 
davs, befoi'c the shabbv doctrine, as fallacious as it is shalihv, was ever 
thought of, that Art " does not ])ay." Six'aking of Philistinism, it may 
be observed that in 1851 *' the Decoration of St. Paul's*' was under 
serious ])ublic discussion ; it is under discussion still ; and nothing of 
any great moment has come out of the discussion all these veal's, except 
an absurdly transcendental scheme of iconography by Burges, now 
forgotten, various projects for polychromatic jjainting, every one 
abandoned, some mosaics of fragmentary effect, and a too-si)leudid 
altar-screen which passed straightway into the unsanctified hands of 
the lawvei-s. 

The Crystal Palace : Digbv Wyatt : Puglx. — The Exhibition 
Building, although ostentatiously called ** the Crystal Palace," made no 
pretensions to architectural merit. The ever-complaisiint Cockerell — 
a man of princely mind, as of princely presence, whose failings always 
leaned to virtue's side — in his desire to sj)eak well of it, could only 
suggest that it had merits of proportion due to its being planned on 
" the nuiltiple princij)le," which he was glad to think had the authority 
of William of Wvkeham in its favour. Even the decoratinii' artists, 
when mattei's came to a finish, were obliired to excuse themselves, 
although already somewhat in the ascendant, l)y advancing the argu- 
ment that it was impossible to dworate so strange a building. There 
were controversies of all kinds about the construction ; but thev were 


of no moment. Paxton, a distinguished horticulturist, had sketched 
the idea on a sheet of l)lotting-paper, after a great greenhouse of his 
own ; Barry condescended to add the vaulted nave ; the contractors, 
Fox and Hendereon, supplied for themselves the necessary engineering 
«kill ; Digby Wyatt, not long returned from a lengthened student career 
at Rome, was made su])erintendent of the works ; Cole was the inde- 
fatigable administrator, in the capacity of what Beresford Hope used 
to call the " showman ; '' the Society of Arts, advancing every day in 
a jubilant if temporary jx)]mlarity, which was of the greatest service in 
the circumstances, expended its augmented resources in keeping up the 
public interest to the necessary tension ; and Prince Albert's earnest 
goodwill, and his popular authority, constituted a never-failing reserve 
of potential influence which was the fly-wheel of the whole enterj^rise. 
A shelter of iron- work and glass liecame recognised as the projxir thing 
for future Great Exhibitions ; but, whether we call it a Crvstal Palace or 
a Greenhouse, nothing has come out of it to this day which can be 
called an icsthetic architectural advance with new materials. 

However, if the Great Exhibition in Hyde Park did no more for 
architecture, it did this : — it brought the " minor arts '' fully into 
public noti(!e. Cole's ideal of art may almost be described as 
revolutionary in this resi)ect. Xo artist himself, and a critic of only 
little moi'e than brir-a-brfir, a hard-heiided plebeian to whom all 
academicalism was moonshine, and any feeling of delicacy or deference 
a delusion and a snare, he went as straight at his mark as a heavy 
dragoon, and his mark was industrial democracy. Professional artists 
of the great schools, as soon as he dared, he treated with undisguised 
disdain : their traditions he put in the dustbin, their history was non- 
sensical, theii' glory a mistake, their pride a mocker}' ; indeed all was 
a mockery of true art. For true art, in his sight, was the masculine 
artizanship of the multitude, tilling the home and the street, and not 
the teni])le and the palace only, with every kind of popular presentable- 
ness for the unaffected enjoyment of all. From the li|xs of a man like 
Eastlake or C(x;kerell, a doctrine of this sort, coming with all the force 
of elo(|nence, learning, and personal graciousness, would probal)ly have 
entirely failed to obtain a public hearing ; but this unlearned and 
ungracious ** showman," keeping his mouth shut when ex|)edient, his 
brain busy, and his heavy hand unweariedly at work, was exactly the 
man for the hour ; and that he did his bushiess well, no one, wince as 
he might at the mode, could for a moment deny. Of course he had 
good men under him : and, amongst the rest, although the professional 
architect was one of his |)et aversions, he had the good fortune and the 
good sense to secure the aid of Digby Wyatt. 

Ferfusson used to sav of Uigbv Wvatt that he had never seen his 
like in this veiy remarkable resjxict : — give liim any conceivable subject 
of architectural work, and dictate to him any style you pleased, he could 

VOL. II. Y. 


without a moment's hesitation sketch off a design in all its detail which 
would be ]>ei*fectly correct and perfectly complete. In other words, his 
mind was a storehouse of all the knowledge that was to be obtained 
from travel and the books. This could Ixi said of him, moreover, with 
reference not to academical architecture alone, but to Architectuml Ai't 
in the widest sense, embracing all the supplementar}' and subsidiary arts 
that could be named. Sixjaking more strictly, however, it was his 
knowledge of aciidemical Renaissance Art in all its departments that 
was so intimate, and he only added to this for its own sake a similar 
but of course not equally profound appreciation of the most approved 
examples of other schools — a little Gothic included, but not too much. 
Academical he was to the core, but his academicalism was so broad that 
it was practically of the same revolutionary character as Cole's demo- 
cratic republiciuiLsm of artizanship. With all " the industrial aits " at 
his fingere' ends, despising none, almost prefening none, here was the 
very mun whom Cole wanted, a loyal and tractable man also, and not a 
vain man like too many of such artists, glad of the opportunity to exert 
himself, and to earn honour more than money. Yeai*s afterwaixls, 
when he asked the Metroj)olitan Board of Works to give him a District 
Surveyorship for a living, his testimonials, it is said, made such a gi-and 
array as to frighten the memlK*rs ; thev would have nothing: to do with 
80 glorified a candidate, and lie never applied again ; Init he eventually 
obtained the better ap})ointment of architect to the East India 
Company ; and if Sir William Tite, who took up the matter, had not, 
in his own rough way, done many another handsome thing, his action 
in this ought to be allowed to cover a multitude of sins of the more 
commercial order. 

But Pugin had his share also in the Oreat Exhibition. The 
"Mediteval Court,'' as regards the interesting collec^tion which it 
contained of indiLstrial examples, aU)eit very ecclesiological and not 
unfre(|uently much too (plaint for the pojmlar giiivity, was undei-stood 
to owe to Pugin chiefly its unquestionable importance in the ])ublic eye 
and influence on the public taste. Here was an excellent o])poilunity 
for illustrating *' the true principles of (lOthic Architecture " in the 
broadest sense of the term ; and architects and all other ornamcntalists 
gave hcH.'d to what was thus taught, and discerned all the more clearly 
the existence of a soul in Mediieval work of which their '* Norman, 
Early Enghsh, Decorated, and Per[)eiidicular " were but the outer 

It Is perhaps to be wondered at, and jKThaps not, that Ruskin in 
those early days was in violent op])osition to the whole scheme of the 
Exhibition. His teaching, however, was contributing not a little, in 
spite of himself, to the revolution that had l)egun. If his dreams were 
dreams, and he liad no idea that he was dreaming — *Sve are near 
waking when we dream that we dream " — they were at least pleasant 


dreams that set many dreamy people dreaming like himself, leaving not 
at all an unprofitable impression on their waking senses. " Go to 
Nature " can never be an idle cry for art, even when it is not under- 
stood by the artist. Perlm|)s it never can be thoroughly understood, 
even by the declaimer ; and certahily it cannot in architecture, and 
when the declaimer is but an amateur. 

Tile Effect upon Architecture. — Within a very short tune the 
effect of the new movement upon architectural practice began to be 
seen, in the jiersistent decadence of the old-fashioned Classical designer 
by the book. When Cole acquired at last that firm seat upon the public 
8houldei"s where he rode so long and so roughly, his contempt for this 
somewhat pretentious and pedantic pei-sonage was audaciously ex- 
pressed ; and it was understood, rightly or wrongly, that he had 
succeeded in imbuing the Prince Consort with the same feeling. But, 
quite inde|)eiidently of an}'thing of that sort, it was plain that the 
instinct of the public was changing with reference to the whole (juestion 
of art in relation to building. One of the firet manifestations was the 
demand for a public museum of Media3val Architecture, in which Scott 
took a le^Kl, with the expressed hope of training architec^ts a little and 
artizans a great deiil. (lothic carvers, decorators, gla8s-paintei*s, metal- 
workere, and the rest, could not, it wiis said,- be procured, and must be 
created. They could not l)e procured even abroad, and must l)e created 
at home ; and so it was not long before they were creating themselves. 
At the same time archaeological societies, devoting their chief attention 
to the ecclesiiistical architectural arts, were attaining increasing |X)pu- 
larity in all pirts of the country, and producing and publishing random 
papers of considerable learning both historiail Jind ecclesiologiciil. 
Local archite<.'tural s(x:?ieties, too, were increiising in number, and their 
discussions fre(iuently turned upon the eager inipiiry, what could be 
done to advance the ])rdctice of artistic work, to ])romote a spirit of 
truth in design, to discountenance more effectually the j)revailing sin of 
counterfeit, to discover elements of natural criticism, to abolish copyism, 
and to substitute for the dogmatic authority of precedent a more 
intelligent rule. It was then that '* the Battle of the Styles " raged 
in earnest. As one of those straws which shoSv how the wind is 
blowing, the choice of a single phrase on an unimportant o(;casion 
to express a passing impression may sometimes be (pioted. Professor 
Donaldson, in drawing up a casual index to a lecture or something of the 
sort, after tabulating, as v\as the habit of the eclectic school, century by 
centurv, the progress of architecture stvle bv stvle, ciinie at last to his 
own generation. He marked it with the one word " Chaos " — nothing 
more ! It was in the contemplation of this chaos, therefore, and in the 
almost forlorn ho]K' of initiating a new cosmos of whatever sort, that the 
Gothic enthusiasts made a rush to the front. Their progi-aninie was 
drastic : — Pack up the whole bundle of this exotic, effete, chaotic 

^ '1 


classicism and t'ck'cticism, from all the editions of Vitravius to all the 
lectiii-es of Cockerel 1 ; jnit it promptly in the fire ; and see what the 
gennine national (rothic can do in its stead ! For a time nothing came 
of it but strife and greater chaos. 

But, at any rate, the year 1851 had not closed lK»fore Digby Wyatt's 
" Industrial Arts of the Nineteenth Centnr}' " had l)een brought well 
before the pub'ic. Whatever might be said of Architeiiture, there was 
Art still to the fore, in considerable quantity and to considerable 
puiixwe, if people would but oj)en their eyes. In the same direction, 
immediately ujX)n the disc^overy that the profits of the Great Exhibition 
con8titute<l an available fund, the demand arose that a peimanent 
museum of these Industrial Arts should l)e one of the jniblic institutions 
of the country. In a word, " ArchitectuR*," the technology of Archi- 
tectus '* the chief of the workmen," was Inking promptly converted into 
"the Industrial Arts/' the ti^chnolog}' of the workmen themselves. 
Indeed, it was not very long l)efore the dcK^trine was 0|>enly advocated, 
with various degrees of emphasis, that the sjurit of building-art was 
pro;)erly the spirit of the artiziins alone, with a definite, not to say nide, 
jepudiation of this acadeniiwil (irrhiU'ctim and all his ways. 

DuAUiJHTSMANsniP. — The ciixjumstiince must not l)e overlooked 
that draughtsmanship was destined to play an iinjM>rtant |>art presently 
in the changed architectural world. The two great reforming agencies 
working in alliance — the Gothic Revival and the Industrial-art move- 
ment — were obviously both of such a nature as to encounige any style of 
brus(|ue masterly sketching to take the ])lace of the i>erha|)s refined but 
feeble and emas(!ulat(.»d mannerism of the pivvious ni(Kle. By degR'CS 
there came into vogue, accordingly, amongst the (Jothic men — who now 
boldly claimed to Ihj the only pro|)er leaders — a system of picjuant and 
powerful drawing, with '*sharj> i)ers|K*c^tive" and expressive touch, which 
not only covered slovenly detail, if such there were, but confenvd uj)on 
the whole work the curiam fcUcitnn of the nnich-desired medianal 
" character." Once fairly started by such masterly sketchei-s as Petit, 
this stimulating practice soon made its way into forms of increasing 
skill and ejirnestness, until Street and Norman Shaw at last wei^e 
acknowlwlge*! to l»e jK.Tha|)s Ix'vond all rivalry. Hut as this fascinating 
an-hitectural sket<.'hing was thus iulvancinjj: so buovantiv, let it not be 
forgotten that a style of sketchy architect uiv wouM arise as a natural 
conscMpience. And so it has certainly done, and in a way that has 
exercised an infiuence by no means always sjtlutary uiK)n om* national 
design ; pnKlucing, alike in buildings, in furniture, and in ornament, 
a clever sla|)dash nianiuT of treatment which cannot l)e relied Ujx)n. 
Pugin was a draughtsman <»f the masterly order, and would achieve 
his objet.'t with nuich reirklessness of jx.*ncil ; but it was reserved for 
Burires in lHr»s to bring niattei-s to a climax by a characteristically 
pe<lanti(' affectation of delight in a book of drawings of the thirteenth 


ceiituiy by one Wilars de Honecourt, which Viollet-le-Duc had un- 
earthed. A more unprofitable style of delineation to imitate for modem 
purposes it would be impossible to discover, but it was genuine Gothic 
handiwork, and that was enough. Burges's eyesight was unfortunately 
very dim — a circumstance that ought never to be overlooked by the 
critic of his work, and especially of his colour — and perhaps his devotion 
to the spirit of Mediaeval Art was here supplemented by a (piestion of 
vision : but at any rate he seized upon this Wilara as a ]xjrfect godsend, 
and adopted and actuiilly used his absurd mode as far as he dared. 
Others in recent years have far outdone Burges in tliis aiTecaation of 
coaree and clumsy drawing ; but the generality of Gotliic draughtsmen 
have always adopted a much less pronounced manner, and ceitainly the 
artistic merit of their drawings and sketches is astonishing to their 
seniore. What, however, is to l)e the end of it in the way of personal 
profit to themselves, becomes an anxious (juestion. Perhaps the out- 
come may l^e at least thus far beneficial, that the amplification of the 
minor arts may find an irnix)rtant aid in the foi-ced transfer of many of 
these highly accomplished experts from the service of building to that 
of its less imposing but more popular supplementaries ; and if this 
should Ik; so it will l)e greatly to the advanUige of Art at large. Indeed, 
there is something in the practical training of an English an^hitect's 
office which seisms to be jX'culiarly favourable to the attainment of that 
particular ]X)wer of design which, in whatever branch of art, nwy turn 
upon the stnictural anatomy of the subject ; and therefore it Ls not at 
all imj)r()bal)le that the architect's office may turn out to be the fittest of 
all schools for oniamental artists of whatever class. It is worthy of 
remark that the robust draughtsmanshi]) of Street (done in writing-ink) 
was |X3rha])s his strongest ])oint ; and his rapid sketching was always a 
marvel to those who had an opiK)rtunity of witnessing its i)erformance. 
Architects ought to bear in mind, however, that the mere sketching of 
the most accomplished master, however masterly, has little real value 
for their proper j)urj)ose. Perhaps the " Queen Anne " designing of 
to-dav owes a great dwil of its feebleness in execution to this stvle of 
" efl'ective '' sketch-niaking l)eing so much relied u|)on, in forgetfulness 
of the circumstance that it is the effect of the building, and not of the 
drawing, that has to l)e considered. 


Gothic work soon l)egan now to tiike the Iciid. Leaving out of account 
such a design as Peimethonie's Recx)rd Office in Fetter Lane — a very 
creditable composition of its kind — it was not long l)efore Scott's 
domestic buildings in Broad Sanctuary, Westminster, led the way to 
the undisguised assertion of a right to build a London street fa9ade in 
the style of a monastic retreat five hundred years oKl ; and so rapidly 
did the movement grow, that in 1857 the great public competition for 
the Government Offices in Whitehall actually produced so many uncom- 


proniisinjr Medifcvalist plans that the adjudicators could do no better 
than divide something like twenty premiums equally and alternately 
l>etween Classic and Gothic, a feeble artifice but a thoroughly English 
compromise. Then, to the great triumpli of the reformers, when the 
authors of the first-placed designs were (as usual) set aside, who should 
come in the winner but Scott ? That there was a little legerdemain 
about it need not surprise the reader ; but the significancy of the 
incident was only all the greater. Scott, however, did not build in 
Gothic after all ; for Lord Palmerston came into ix)wer and bluntly 
told him he must convert his design into Classic ; and he did so, rather 
than resign the commission. In the meantime Westminster Bridge had 
been built in Gothic — a cast-iron girder-bridge in the likeness of 
Tudor arches — and highly approved, as would scarcely be the case now. 
At Paddington Railway Station, however, about the siime time Brunei 
the engineer allowed Digby Wyatt to design some well-meant and 
graceful ironwork. In St. James's Hall Owen Jones made use of his 
own Moresco manner with sufficient success, but not within the rules of 
the day, being of neither the one ** style " nor the other. Then the 
monumental column at Westminster attracted considerable attention ; 
80 did the Wallace Hkfonument at Stirling ; and a good many Gothic 
buildings of very '* picturescjue " character (on ]>a]XT) began to appear 
throughout the countiy, as if to show what a discrepmcy there might 
be sometimes between the poetic drawing of the architect and the 
prosiiic brick-and-mortar of the builder. The Oxford Museum, by 
Deane or Woodward (Plate 219), now attracted a great deal of notice. 
The Temple Library was an exceptionally good ciuasi-ecclesiastical 
example of a different order. Small monumental works, such as memo- 
rials and drinking fountains, screens, reredoses, and tombs, were also 
produced in good or bad Gothic, and much admired ; Gothic ornament 
was intimately studied and illustrated ; and (Gothic furniture of 
considerable characteristic merit, both ecclesiastical and domestic, was 
being frequently designed, if not always executed. The Houses of 
Parliament were steadily but slowly progressing all this time; and at 
length, in IHOo, just as the Victoria Tower was near completion, the 
accom])lished arcliitect — or clever rather than accomplisheil — died at 
the height of hLs well-earned fame. 

In church-design during this |X'riod notable progress was l)eing 
made everywhere. Scott was very busy in his soft u'raceful stvle all 
over the country. Pugin built, as a challenge, his own St. Augustine's 
at Ramsgate. All Saints', ^largaret Street, by Butterfiekl, was jxThaiDS 
the most demonstrative of all examples : ** a costly folly," Tite said 
officially at the Institute, for which Beresford Hoik.^ was held res}>on- 
sible — both in jxjrson and in px^ket — but one that took the fancy of 
the Mediaivalist world hugely. lliiphael Brandon's Catholic and 
Apostolic church in Bloomsbury, dating from inriD, was a notably 



meritorious design ; and in 1861 Street came to the front with liis St. 
James the Less in Westminster, a work of stm'dy merit in brick. New 
parish churches in various individual phases of the popular manner, 
were generally of an unassuming fouiteenth-century motive, with elegance 
of proportion kept generally in view. Old churches were being restortKi 
everywhere ; and frequently, as is now t'lought, too freely altered and 
amended. The cathedrals were also Ixjing placed in the most t'Xi)ert 
hands, Scott tiiking the lion's share. 

In Classic design there were, l)esides the great works mentioned a 
few piiges back, the Junior United Service Club in Regent Street, by 
Nelson, Covent Garden Theatre by Edward Barry, the (irosvenor Hotel 
by Knowles, the Leeds Town Hall by Brodrick, the National Gallery at 
Edinburgh by Playfair, the Halifax Town Hall by Barry, and many 
other sufficiently estimable efforts in various forms of ordinary and 
sometimes extraordinary Italian. 

In the Exhibition of 1851 the "Architectural Coints,'"* c()ui)led with 
the multifarious display of specimens of ornamental art-work in other 
dejxirtments, had undoubtedly produced a feeling of unexix'cted pleasure 
in the public mind ; and the iX'nny-wise-|)ound-foolish complaeency of 
the well-to-do British Philistine had received a considerable shock. It 
is not clear that the Prince Consort did nuich pei*sonally, but he allowed 
Cole in his name to strike the iron while it was hot during the next ten 
years with a persistency that never flagged. Amongst other things, 
there was the encouragement of certain s[)ecial manufactures which 
particularly affec^ted architectural design. Terra-cotta and other crlay- 
ware may l)e assigned the chief place. Brickwork in ej-ceJsis promptly 
followed. It will be seen at a glance that a movement of this kind 
would be a very natural result of the Exhibition policy. Picturescjue- 
ness of treatment would also Ixx^ome more ix)pular, e\"en if the re\ ival of 
the Gothic Arts had not so thoroughly prepared the way. Xorman 
Shaw's sketches of picturescpie Teutonic work of the old school were 
published, and made an impression ; and other artists of similar taatas 
imitated and emulated him. The study of antitpie furniture and 
ornaments also directed especial attention to the Rococo of the north- 
western quartei-s of the Continent ; and, in a word, the identification of 
Old Dutch, high and low, with Old English through this channel was 
progressing rapidly. Japanese ornament, too, had taken the fancy of 
the Parisians, and the fasliion was l)eginning to spread to London. On 
the whole, the hric-a-hrac of South Kensington ^luseum — ^no longer that 
of Wardour Street — was steadily gaining ground every day as a matter 
of intelligent study for the public at large. 

Cardinal Wiseman, who had some good amateurish idea^ about 
architecture, well stiys in one of his lectures, " It must never be forirotten 
that brick is the lowest of all materials."" Terra-cotta cannot be put 
(juite on this debased level ; but the use of teiTa-cotta and brick in 


combination enables an architect certainly to be ambitious — or at least 
showy — and cheap, and the risk of lapsing into vulgarity is consequently 
all the greater. Brit-a-hrac design, or inferior Rococo, in brick and 
terra-cotta, would be very likely, therefore, to become superficial, 
meretricious, and shallow ; and it is not too much to say that this is 
the character which must be assigned to a great deal of the work which 
has l)een the result of the South Kensington movement, under the name 
(for the i)resent) of the Queen Anne style. It would take some time, 
however, for this result to become suflfic^iently patent : and meanwhile 
the Secular Gothic, equally objectionable in some respects, if not so 
much so in others, held its ground. 

In I)eceml)er 1801 the excellent Prince Consort unexpectedly died. 
His dect.'ase had no effect \x\^\\ ardiitectural progress, for his mind had 
not buon in any 8ix>cial way of an architectimil turn. It may be also 
said that the South Kensington administratitm under Cole, in the 
interest of the Industrial Arts at large, had l)ecome so firmly established 
through the influence of the Prince that his loss even in this respect was 
scarcely felt ; the good he had done lived after him. 

Pk()(;hess, IhOO to 1870. — During this period the course of 
English architectm'e was ver}' much in the same direction that has just 
been ilescribed. Classic or Italian design, improving in character 
through the rivaliy of the Gothic, still pursued its way in municijial 
buildings of the better class ; and the City of London in ;j)aiticular 
began to be greatly embellished under this general rule. Ecclesiastical 
Gothic flourished abundantly, and in ]x;rha})8 a majority of cases to the 
verv LTreat credit of English skill. Secular Gothic came more and more 
into coniixitition with municipal Italian. Brick and terra-cotta work 
was slowly advancing. Timl)er work began to assert itself here and 
there in the country, as a still cheajxT mode of cultivating the pic- 
turesfjuc : and '* Sgraffito " — scratched ornament on plaster — followed, 
in the same spirit, although not with much acceptance. The subsidiary 
arts were growing in importance every day as the proper work of 
architecture, and studies and clever designs for small decorative subjects 
and intei"i<^rs were especially attracting attention to certain architects 
as their authors. Art and science schools were prosj.Kiring all over the 
land, and the grumblers against native taste were begnming to be 
challenged to the ])roof. 

Amongst the multitude of churches there were St. Alban's, Holborn, 
by I>utterfield ; St. Peter's at Yauxhall, by Pearson ; St. Finn Barr at 
Cork, by Purges ; St. Vincent's at Cork, by Goldie ; St. Stephen's at 
Kensington, by Peacock ; Monaghan Cathednd by McCarthy : St. 
Mary Abbott, Kensington, l)y Scott ; Tuam Cathedral, by Deane ; a 
church in Edinlmrgh, by Rochead (good Gothic spreading to Scot- 
land) : and others by Ferrey, Street, Teulon, Brooks, Bodley, Seddon, 
Slater, and younger men, all equally worthy of the art. Besides there 



were cathedral restorations and the rehabilitation of old churches eveiy- 
where ; indeed, it seemed as if English genius had found its forte 
in this the most legitimate and by far the most interesting field of 
revived Media?valism. In other departments the competition for the 
All)ert Memorial produced the resplendent design of Scott ; the colleges 
of Oxford and Cambridge engaged largely in building ; Scott designed 
the Glasgow University ; and Fettes College in Edinburgh, by Bryce, 
and the Aberdeen City Hall, by Peddie and Kinnear, were both ad- 
mirable. Memorial crosses, reredoses, and timber roofs, were treated 
with great care and skill ; Burges designed a Gothic warehouse, which 
however, came to nothing ; and country mansions and provincial town 
buildings, schools and asylums, in secular Gothic, were advancing in 
numlxT, and also in merit, such as it was ; while the Manchester Assize 
Courts brought out Waterhouse, to follow soon with the more famous 
Town Hall of the same city. 

Of the Classic examples there may l)e mentioned the Freemasons' 
Tavern, by Frederick Cockerell, an excellent work where one would not 
expect it ; the Smithiield Markets by Honice Jones, commonplace and 
coai*se ; the well-known Treasury, by Scott (not only Classic against his 
will, but mutilated), with the India Office behind it bv Diii:l)v Wvatt in 
co-operation with him — Wyatt having the (Tedit of the cortile and the 
grouping towards the Park ; the Junior Carlton Club-house, by David 
Brandon, an unaffected stately pilazzo ; the London Univei'sity, by 
Pennethorne (Plate 200), a design with many good points (it was siiid 
the architect had lii*st desiirned it in Gothic — eclectic Gothic of com-se — 
and was disapix)inted when reciuired to change the style) ; the Albert 
Hall, by Captain Fowke (and his staff), a reniarkaljly imposing design 
not without great merit, carried out under (leneral Scott his successor ; 
and a miscellaneous multitude of Town-halls, Banks, Insurance Officers, 
Hotels, and the like, of which it is impossible to say more than that 
they were of the usual tyjxs sometimes good and often not. Facing 
Barr}''s s])lendid Palace of Westminster, there was built the exjK'nsive 
but artistically futile St. Thomas's Hospital ; an all-too-prominent 
illustration of normal English taste, whose simplicity enjoys the honour, 
it is said, of being preferred by many to all the splendour op]X)site. 

Some remarkable comjxitition contests took place within this deciide. 
First may be mentioned the extraordinary pair, or brace of select 
competitions for the National Gallery and the Law Courts resiXHjtively. 
They were instituted simultaneously — the last official recognition of the 
Battle of the Styles. For the National Gallery a number of architects 
of repute on the Classic side of the profession were selected, with two or 
three (Jot hie ; for the Law Courts, on the other hand, the coniix^titors 
were Gothic men, with two or three eclectics ; a small number being 
thus on both lists. Large fees were allowed to all equally. The designs 
were publicly exhibited before adjudication. The result was, as usual^ 

niS'mitr of MOI>EliX Al!i.'IilTi:cTL"KK. 1V.OK IV. 

). iir r.ith(.-r twij. I-iiiviinl Itiirry wjis cIil' H'iriin.T for tl:t- Xatidiiiil 
.'. iiiifl ii(j niiiri- WHS ilniif in iln' iiiiitttT. Xlic Nuvvfi-s I'oiiH imt 
ti iiiiy iiiuK-i-stiiuiliii,;r iiliimt tlidr (.'ourts, tiucil siuuf xm lii-:!i in 

.wIliH, M^l. .liM'MVu.|V.-U 

*p. VI. 



by the proftssioii of aruhitects, to pcwst-aa an iiiuiitnsity of rwomlite 
merit of tliu llusciiliir (,'hristiiin ordtT wliuii adventitious sutfcas eiiiistid 
it to In; atttritivdy looked ut. Another c'omiK.'titiori of note wjis for 
the Xiitural Iliatory Jlnsonin at Soutli Kunsinjiton. It was an open 
contt'St : a reniarkalily tint: Italimi desi.iiii liy Fowku (and iiis staff) waa 
thy winner, tint it whs nevur carrieil out. 

Interior work of urtistii- minor iireliituftUR', jK.'nniltiil to In.' dL'siimed 




Hk.' ^ 







|Kv _" 






liy iiiThitwls. iustwid of iitinj: olioaen from the j Kilt i-rn- hooks of 
fasluoiiiilile fnrnitni-LMleiders, wits all tliLs time advaiiciri;; slmily hut 
siiri'ly : tlif U'St [miihiotionmif " iirt mamifacttiR'if" weru also iKUi-^ 
Uosi'-'tiL-d liy iin-hitwts ; dnmi-Ktio furnitinv was Ix-cominjr ii spiriality 
iittacliid to su(.'h iiaiuL-s as Xonmin Shaw and Eastlakf ; a[i<l uioik-liinL', 
canin^r, nniral ]miiiiinfr. and the dewis:?! of nUftn |KtintiTLi:, weiv ac- 
quirinjr iiK-reasins iiR-hili'ctural vijroiir. In ninny othcc forms nouii 


the less, the movement of 1851, sustained in one Industrial Exhibition 
after another all over the world, was steadily doing its l)enefieent work. 

An interesting criticuil artistic question came up at this time with 
refei'ence to the treatment of terra-cotta. At South Kensington, this 
characteristically revived mat<)rial was a good deal used, and most pro- 
minently in the All)ert Hall. At Dulwich College, an inferior building 
by Banks and Barry, it was also largely employed. At Kensington the 
antique Italian method of treating the material was adopted ; at 
Dulwich it was dealt with in what was mciint to be an improved way. 
It is well-known that the shrinkage of terra-cotta during l>aking is so 
great, that the blocks come from the oven somewhat irregular in line 
and size. At South Kensington the irregularity is accepted and brought 
into alignment as l)est may l)e by selection ; at Dulwich the blocks are 
trimmed and surfaced. Whic^h is the proper artistic system ? Most 
critics will emphaticidly say the South Kensington. To dress up such a 
material when Ixnng fixed makes it, of course, as true as masonry ; but it 
converts it in a manner into sham masonry, and its preparatory stage 
may l)e almost as carelessly managed as you please ; to accept it as it 
comes from the kiln, and use it accordingly, makes it true temi-cott^i, 
and so far true art — true industrial art, we mav sav, instead of counter- 
feit academical arc^hitecture ; and the honest recognition of its native 
defects only confers ujwn it a new charm, and gives to the architect 
and to the critic a new delight. 

It may be added here that the ingenious inventicm of Ransome't 
artificial stone, brought into public notice at this time, seems to have 
deserved greater success in aR'hitecture than it has ac^hieved. Its use 
in such a building as St. Thomas's Hospital, for Corinthian C4ij)itals and 
pedestal vases at so much by the dozen, did it no good ; artist-architects 
at that time would only discard it for that very reason jK^remptorily. 
But why so iDcrfect an equivalent for natural sjindstone cannot he 
develojKHl for running ornament with artistic discretion — instead of 
moulded brick, for instiincc — at any rate in slightly jimbitious designs of 
the inexpensive class, is a question that may fairly be suggested to the 

PK()(iRESS, 1H70 TO 18S0. — The leading architec?t now was Scott, 
and the dominant architectural work undoubtedly Gothic. In all the 
cathedrals the task of restoration was K'ing steadily pursue<l ; and the 
rehabilitation of the old pjirish churches, which constitute one of the 
most es|)ocial charms of England, was undertaken with enthusiastic 
delight in every quarter of tlu? land. A remarkable conij»etition for the 
new E]iisc()i>alian Church or Cathedral of ^t. Mary in Edinbin'gii brought 
the i:K)wers and peculiarities of Scott, Street, and Biu'ges, into nu^t 
interesting conqiiirison : and it was manifest how ScottV success in this 
instance was due, as was his iK)puiarity everywhere, not to such archaic 
enthusiasm as Street's, or such ambitious and eccentric vigour as Burges's, 



line raclkT to an iilniost fmiiiiiiio dt.'jriiik'L-. inndi-sty, iiiid i\']kis(', wliirli 
iihviiys ii]i]iiiilwl siiiffssfully to tliu molt: l*niCi-s(;nit syiiijttiliiw i>f tlif 
(.Ti-al majiivity <if i\n- ]K^i\t]i: Tlmt siii-li a styli; shimiti fvciitiiiilly U- 
mlk-d Mi'iik \VM iiK'vitiil.lo, lint it Tifv.-r h\M tn 1«- jil fusing;. 


dilijrently pursued, under the charge of zealous amateurs and equally 
zeiilous architects and manufacturers. Extreme ecclesiological doctrines 
were propounded by High Church architects with such absurd fen'our 
that Roman Catholics wondered at the incomprehensible superstition of 
Protestants ; the idle mysteries of symbolism, the emblematic devices of 
chmxjh ornament, and the legends of the saints ! being studied much more 
than even the remains of Medieval building. But the reason for all this 
lav below the siu^ace. Artistic relii^ion had become the fashion of the time ; 
and ever}'thing, therefore, that could add to the pleasiu-es of the imagina- 
tion in public worship was eagerly sought out in ancient records, and 
devoutly accepted in daily j>ractice. Church Architecture in particular 
came to Ixi regarded with veneration by thousands upon thoustinds of 
cultiu^ and even scarcely cultured |)ersons of l>oth sexes ; and, in a 
word, one of the most delightful of all sentimental recreations came to 
be develojxid to the utmost in the form of ceremonial devotion. New 
names were constantly arising in the list of well-known aR'hitects ; and it is 
to be ol)served that Englishmen were even employed to design churches in 
their own fashion in continental countries. Schools, it need not Ixj said, 
parsonages, colleges, and various other such buildings were of course to 
be classed as ecclesiastical work ; but it was not long l)efore Noncon- 
formist chai)els followed suit as far as they dared, and even Presbyterian 
kirks on the very soil of Scotland : thus proving agjiin that the develop- 
ment of Mediivval Art was l>ecoming verv much of a univei'stil national 
sentiment, that is to say, that the appreciation of artistic ])ublic worship 
was now spreading through the whole community, a|>art altogether from 
that jKirticular movement in the National Church of England in which it 
had originated. 

The history of this jxTiod would scarcely l)e complete without some 
special reference Ixiing made to the |>e(,'uliar rivalry of those very 
remarkable enthusiasts, Burges and Street. Both were men of a highly 
artistic temix^rament, but tliey were as unlike each other in eveiT way 
as any two such men could well Ik*. Burges was iK'i*sonaIly very much 
of a Bohemian, whimsical to absiu'dity, iwradoxical, pedantic, and 
perverse ; but jx)ssessing singularly retined }K)wers of elegant, contem- 
plative, and what is called ]Kx.*tic design, with a leaning towards nick- 
nackery. Street, on the contrary, was robust, bigoted, and domineering ; 
a solemn tighter, armed ntp-a-jtU^l^ and with no weakness at all — except 
excess of strength l)e weakness — having a |H)sitive disgust for the elegancies 
and graces, and a sort of delight in an-hitectural uncorifortableness 
which it was iniiK)ssible not to admire l)(.H.rause of the vehemence of it 
as an act of sacrifice. Both had a radical and contenipruous distrust 
of the nineteenth century in res{XH't of all its ways and works ; but their 
conce]>ti()ns of the thirteenth or fourteenth were essentially different. 
Strwt might have IxHiU a building al:)b()t, ruling with a rod of iron, if 
ruling well ; or a building baron, sealing his delineations with the hilt 


of his sword ; while Burges would have been neither priest nor warrior, 
but some eccentric wandering star of infinite jest and humoiu*. That 
Burges was the more refined artist the majority of pleasant people will 
probably maintain ; but that Street was more grand there will still be some 
hard-mouthed admirers of the severities of art with equal emphasis, or 
even more, to affirm. At any rate, Burges loved the amenities and 
sunshine of Mediaeval Art, Street its austerities and clouds. That they 
had a pretty correct appreciation of each other's shortcomings need 
scarcely be said ; they were always competitor, never comrades, both 
great architects. 

Secular Gothic was now more and more encouraged. Perhaps the 
majority of the municipal edifices in provincial towns, and even the 
business houses of London streets, were thought to be at their best 
when endowed with awkwardly f)f)inted windows and doors, and em- 
bellished with vulgar grotesques. The whole enterprise culminated in 
the London Law Courts, when Street had got that extraordinary work 
fairlv under weijrh. No other ai-chiteet living could have had the couratre 
to do all that he did to push anomaly and anachronism to extremity. 
Without a word of exaggeration he may be said to have revelled in the 
•fierce delight of the battle he was fighting against the habits and 
customs of the day. The lawyei*s had |>ersuade(l themselves to l)e 
charmed with his drawings ; perhaps the artificial intelligence which 
they cultivate took kindly to the rej^udiation of common sense which 
spoke from every line. But when they came to occupy their dismal 
abode, their admiration was changed to des]>air. The sweet austerities 
of paf)er Gothic did not delight them in stone. They discovered that 
even the processes of the law could not be conveniently jmi'sued with light 
and cheerfulness so demonstratively al)sent : the genius of architecture 
had aven<j:ed hei*self for the endurance of manv contumelies bv addinir a 
new hon'or to litigation. The artist died in the arms of victory ; and 
ever since that day the possessore of this rhpf-iVwuvre of Secular Gothic 
have been (|uerulously complaining, with not a soul to pity them or to 
offer a ho]x; of relief. 

One of the most prominent public buildings of the Secular Gothic 
order was the Natural History Museum at South Kensington, l\v 
"VVaterhouse, a large edifice in teiTa-cotta both outside and in, dangerously 
ambitious and original, but not without many evidences of anxious and 
skilful piins. Sion College, on the Thames Embankment, by Blomfield, 
was a congenial subject, treated with success. The Prudential Assurance 
Office in Holborn, by Waterhouse, was another exjxiriment in terra-cotta. 
considered to be sufficientlv successful ; although whether a buildinir all 
in dark red can l>e jKinnanently admired for stateliness is doubtful. 
Doul ton's TeiTa-cotta Factorv, built on the Lambeth bank of the 
Thames, as an advertisement of the material, was more ostentatious than 

VOL. II. \^ 



Ill tlie provinces inatij meritonous esamples more or less Gothic in 
character wcry making their appearance ; in fact, by this time the 
" coiintiT architects " of England may be said to have in many iuetances 
risen (luite to the highest metropoliUn level in artistic escellence ; 
tlianks, iicriiape, to the very remarkable esertioua of the profeesional 
journals in the weekly production of lithographic illustrations. Tbe 



PI\in«utli Onildhall, liy Hint ; Colk^'iiite Imildinp* at Oxford and 
Caniliridjre, chiefly by the leudinj: wcksinstieal men : the Bnulfoni Ttiwn 
Hall, by Lockwood and Muwson : the Clarkf Hall at I'aisluy. l.y I.ynn ; 
the llaiTow Town Hall, by ihe snme architect ; Mason's Onlk'ge. 
llimiinffhani. by Cossins ; ttitli the celebrated ilanchestor Town Hall, by 
AVaierliouw : tliL'st niny lie »|iioted as araonjr the most admired works, 
U-sidi-s nnmcrons hotels and business houses in the chief towns. The gitat 


(Hmiii ry-si.'iit . Kitoii Ihill, timsi !ils<i 1k' iji(>iitiiiii(.-(l iik oir' of ilic d)ii;f 
cirin'i- .if AViiturlinitsv. It iiiiLj- ns \\<A\ W Miid pliiiiily. Uowwur, tlint. 
iii.Isr.-il l.y iIr- lK.'rt iiR'diiWHl staiidinils. tli^-tv mis uric inVvjiiliiii: finill in 
m.M uf llu-sc Scciiliir (iijiliii-'.'us. timiiK'Iv. uu i[S]>iririL' lliiiuii-ss, ii 
wiiiii .rf Imw.l tk-\vi^; II liiirt of siuniUii^' uti l\\tUxj, iihviiys .[.■TiintclivL' uf 
iiiHJi'Sti.' cirwt, ami nircii'uliirly ixoijLiililuil in hhmIlth (iidliif work cii 

\ltli.nwh the Il.mmu CuLliulk' trdi'siustips in liidi v^w'^* '^^''^ 


^1V4. Tlw Idw LVitin^ l^iwlun. Nvrth Hi 



understocMi to be Bcarcelv fa oiirable to the revival of Med (Dval \rcl 
tectnre anywhere, ma y of the w 1 utlI >< of tl at fa th i England 
now exhibitwi Goth ma^ifi -e e of deta 1 n th ffr at success b it 
they almost invariably con h ed v th it a stud cd el ga ce wl ch vas 
too often repudiated 1 v tl e ProtestT t arch tects P rl aps the d ff re cc 

was unly tliiit which is ahrays unavoidable between uueiisy affectation 
and ciiliii siricwitj-, 

lleiiiiuhile it was eminently clinr.icteristie of the iwrticnlnr line of 
prognsB which Art was jiiireuing that the desiijn of 
BCiKkmhlc ornamental subjects, such as reredoses, fonts, ]iuliiits, tlirones, 
chancel-screens and rails, and ecclesiastical furniture gerierally, even in 



siiiall country churches, toj^ther with the corresponding productions in 
stained glass, pavements, paintings, metal-work, and all else in the way 
of detail, gradually advanced to a degi-ee of elaboration which must have 
satisfied the most exigent adversaries of Philistinism. 

On the other hand, in spite of the violent assaults which Secnlar 
Gothiuism continually maintained against all that was Classic in theory, 
the standard style of ftliidern Enrojte fully sustained its title to rt'ign In 
English practice, fn I^indon siicli works kck achieved as the admirable 
addition to Somerset ITonsc hy Peiinethornc. Rnrlin.gton House hy Danks 


and Barry, and the addition to the Royal Academy fa^^de by Smirke ; 
the City of London School, a showy but meritorioufi competition design 
by Davis and Emanuel, and the Temple Gardens Chamlxjrs, a still more 
showy chateau by E. Bairy ; the Criterion Restaurant by Verity (one of 
the actual designers of "South Kensington"), showy again but well 
modelled in French taste ; and the new Post Office at St. Martin's-le- 
Grand, a somewhat too unaffected but very business-like structure, by 
the officials of Public Works ; while in " the City " the denizens of the 
streets and alleys were every jear more and more astonished to see the 
bright and imposing edifices which were bringing a glow of youthfulness 
into the old and dingy thoroughfares of trade. 

It was in the very heart of the City, and at this time, that Xorman 
Shaw's peculiar style of design first attracted serious attention, by means 
of a building in Leadeuhall Street called "New Zealand Chambers," 
certainly a most courageous innovation. It seemed to l)e, in a word, a 
" Queen Anne " experiment of the most inappropriate kind in the most 
inappropriate place possible, rejecting in limine the nile of proc^eeding 
by degrees, and leaping at one bound to the uttermost limit of probable 
endurance, planting defiantly in one of the most sordidly bustling 
streets of the town, full of plate-glass shop-windows, and redolent of 
nothing in the world but the keenest economics, positively an old- 
fashioned Dutchman's warehouse, a sort of Rij) Van Winkle of mer- 
cantile establishments, in which no oiie would exjx.'ct from the look of it 
that the simplest transaction of the counting-house could be accom- 
plished in less than a week. That it took the fancy of not a few, 
however, was certain ; indicating, as we can now see, that the advent 
of hric-a-hrac as a positive motive power in the more ambitious endea- 
vours of architecture was imminent. The idea that the so-called Queen 
Anne style was suddenly introduced to the architectural world in this 
example — following a few others of the domestic class in the outskirts of 
the town and in the country — is a mistake ; for Rococo Renaissiince 
had been slowly making its way for fifteen or twenty yeare in the 
privacy of artistic or sesthetic society ; but the discover}' by the public 
at large of how far it had made its way was no doubt a surprise, and 
certainly it may be admitted that j)rofessional architects presently dis- 
covered that the new mode was calculated to meet a definite demand. 
This demand was in fact iK'ing created by the obvious failure of the 
Secular Gothic to meet the practical requii^ements of the connnunity. 
The principle to which it had been appealing for so many weary yeare 
was the charm of the pictimisque, as a reaction from the insipidity 
of commonplace classicism. This principle, it was now considered 
apparent, could l)e much Ixitter satisfied, and much more con^•eniently 
and appropriately, by adopting — it was as yet for the smoky streets of 
London only — honest brick instead of sham stone, and the "ciuahitness" 
of some sort of genteel comedy of building instead of the giim severit^f of 



moiiuBtw iircliaiciam. But why our own indijiieuous Elizabethan manner 
did Hdt itjuic to the front is an iuten-stiiifr point for speculatire tritiuism. 
Perhai« tliy aiiswi-r is thri-efold. First. Elizal)tthan had U'cn trii'd in 
certiiiu forms for a long time, and witliout suflicioiit success. Stoondly, 
it was in principle already a latent element tl e olut of the new 
mode. Thirdly, as it was professed by the ■efom rs — 1 o were exclu- 
sively (iothicista and sketcliers of the jiieture^^i ■ — tl at tl ir mode was 
to Ije jreimine native English, this would n ■cesssa ly & t <fy the Eliza- 
bethan elaims, as sujigtstinfi native Renaissa c of ea v dat-e ; and 
80 the piihlie mind was prejiai'ed to fiive it a f ir t I I fact, looking 
back, a-i we can now do, uixm the career of the Queen Anne movement. 

a" a fi' that hi- In this InnL iirolwbl^ u i(.Ik(1 it- lii_'hi-.t k\Ll and 
retlfitm_' nioa pailiuilaih n]Hin it- intLinH <.t ihimitmn mth tin aid of 
fiwnitnu and iiinimtnti (L\tirior dt-i.'ti bcni^' in i niaiimi unh the 
insidt tuniLd lait). this uki -ttiiw wortli Mi_'ji.~tmj: — ihit tla ]>(>pular 
accoptaiRi of it lies iti an appriAal of tin. ntia— iinmu' i itni domt-titity 
of a Imnn. in tiiL uiiintr\ in jiliin. of tliL jirtttntKni" md \ ipid stateli- 
ne«- of a mansion in the town hc.< m-t nf it« Ik,iii^ nioii. luomniodatinK 
to m«ile-i En^li-h n,i]niixmint- and nun -.iii-fMn_' to niodt-t Ln^'lu-li 
tastes lilt partuuUrl* frei itid ea-i tn.itm.iit <>t nin-t t\aini)k-a 
would of Limrsc (onhnn tliH tlaon \ tri\Llhiv Vmerudn is said to 
lia\e fonnulated In- opinion of tlit nm artbitettun. m tlit irk that 
It -etmid to 1m, "(JuLtn \iiiil in fr<nit and Marv-\niit at tin hack '— 
a jest which may at any rate SLi\e to acetntuate the argument that the 


mode is anconwiiHisly refrarded as one whose liomely merit is tliat it is 
not wortli wliiie either to couiiterfeit uppeaninoes or to eoiiecal tlieni. 

Another illastratioii of tlie somewhat whiiiiNieal uiid nt the same time 
not misoiirid in^^tinet whieli at thitf period ]Kissessed the £it;:lls)i mind 
was seen in the Btron^ sn^iwtli of the Japanese mania, Tlie Parisians 
had ied the way in this movement as a somewliat frivolous chaiitre of 
fashion : hnt when it readied Lonih>n it 1)ecame a serious matter of 
study. Tlie purjtose it sen-yd iintetieally was to assist and supjnirt tlie 
minor-art juirty in soeiety, hy lirinjrins; forward )>iijnanoy of eoloiir to 
assist piijiianey of fonii. It ean seait-ely be douhted that it aivompHslied 
this end siic<x«sfullv. Tlie old-hush ionwl chromatic hannonies were 




3k * 


pp^iwsi^i • "wm m 

-■■■- -- .bk'-- 

^vj~r^ ' 

T^T"^ _g:rj7^. 


voted tanii- and (■IT. ■mi mite. The (iotiiic diseonls had iieen tried as a 
reJiction, and hy all, exeejit the most extreme enthnsiasts, wei'e pro- 
iioniH'ed to !«.■ only ■■rude and eoar.-e. But the .Ia[ianese eon d.i nations, 
hielnditii: their (Krasir.nal discords for relief, lielisrhted every r\x- that 
wns airessihle to the inllnenres of jreiiiiine and simple sioeenty on the 
jialette, TlirR' was an unmistakable viiMur in the whole wheme, an 
ulisetiee of timidity, a simple nmseularity of the nrnj-'h-and-ivady sort, 
whioh was exa<'tly what the pnhlie hitelli^nee wanted to sii) iplenicnt 
the roiii:li-aiid-ready mas<-u!inity of the "Qiieeii .\nne " hoth in hric-it~ 
brill- fiiniishinir and in hrir-ri-ltrnr arch it «■ tun-. The R'ifrn of Jaiianesc 
cohnirin;; in English art still cfHitintn.-s. even where the lieneficial 
intluenee takea otiier names. That onr recognition of the artistic 


merits of Japan did not stop short at colour was matter of course ; but 
some of our cynical Goths may perhaps have wondered sometimes why 
we did not proceed to imitate paper dwellings and " quaint " joss-houses 
,in our fashionaWe building. 

Pbogress since 1880. — The fact does not seem to be so fully 
recognised as it ought to be that during the last few years this country 
has iKJcn jmsshig tlirough the earlier stages of a vital social revolution 
But if, as seems undeniable, the commercial movements of the Empire 
have been sutetituting new ascendencies for old, the effect, as it concerns 
our subject, must Ix* this : — that the " imtronage " of the arts by the 
landed aristocracy is on the wane, and the ** demand " for artistic work 
by the middle and lower classes of society on the rise. It is easy for 
any reflective person to put this propf>8ition into the language of either 
political economy or politics, and the architectiu*al result will be the 
same. Country seats on a dignified scale have almost entirely ceased 
to be built, and also the corresix)nding metropolitan palaces. Whole 
streets of large and costly residences are now produced on s^xxjulation, 
for sale to commercial magnates, who furnish them with a new kind of 
splendid lil>erality. The mansions at the west-end of London which 
are occasionally built to private order are of the same class, and charged 
with the same novel gracc»s. The smaller dwellings of less pretentious 
people follow suit in their several degrees, till ** Queen Anne " reaches 
the level of the country cottage, and cheiip Japanese oddities excite 
a pleasurable wonder in the servants' hall. Thus the movement in 
favour of the unrestrained distribution of art in pojmlar fonns, as 
opposed to the exclusive traditions of academicalism, is still gtiining 
strength every day, and in every (juarter. The direct authority of the 
South Kensington policy of Colt — and of the Prince Consort no doubt 
personally — may not Ihj so observable as it useil to l)e : but its indirect 
influence is more and more jxTvading the whole community. Jhic-d-hraCy 
piquant ornament and decoration, high colour, j)ictures(|ueness, quaint- 
ness, brick and teiTa-cotta work, *' minor art '' in everv form, and tiistv 
furnishing almost to distraction, have so far snixjrseded the slow, stiff, 
statelv " fine art " of fortv veai*s ago that little of it is left, and the 
fashionable art^hitect of the day is the designer of dainty rooms to pleiise 
the ladies ; and why not this in its turn ? 

Secular Gothic has virtually disapjK'ared, and its former votaries are 
now the devotees of ** Queen Anne.'' Their facile draughtsmanship, also, 
almost gluts the market : and if its efTw't \\\>o\\ design is frequently 
beneficial, it is not now to l>e denied that it is fK'casionallv detrimental. 
For delusive drawing, esjiecially in aivhitectural art, is more dangerous 
than bad drawing ; and it cannot l>e disimted that at this moment it is 
ram})ant, chiefly in the form of remarkably clever but remarkably 
fallacious jien-and-ink etching — a style of manipulation in which any 
desired effect, of breadth or brightness, playfulness or reix)se, richness of 



ornament, or even costliness of material, can Ik niatle to attach to the 
very poorest pi'oportions and fechlest and falsest forms, hy the Biniplc 
t'xpwUent of scratt'liinj; over the jiaper with thu entirely nnarchitectural 
towhes of " fR-eliaiul." 

Eeck-siasticiil (lesi;rii of tin- U 
the IKilia'Viil imule. and may 1 
fashionable II(k.-oi.'i» has nnduiilit 
aged and thf ri.-st of tlie minor m 

iiy dejrree foi-saken 
in <-]-Mx- : hnt the 
luiols and iiaiium- 
III fuel. iiltli"iij:li the 

t order ha;; not ii 
: said to im])rov 



lU.K I v. 

liciii;.' wsoiitiiilly .;f ;i iliitiusiii- dmrjictrr, siiul liiyinjr liolil cf '-■vi-ry 
sulijcct tliiit lias u i|iiiisi-.linin.-stii' iiiiriwc«.r. voiM cniivtrt ivitbont wnijilt; 
into siiiiiftliiin: <>f cliu simii' kind vwii tliL- statclU-st sulijwts hi tin' im/iit 
triiviis, wiif miuling altuiri'tliiT tin; nioiiiinii-iita! with tin.' hniiiflv, >vi- mav 





^. - 








■Ivi-s lliat i( lias iml ii[[ilJi]'li'.l (■> iillack llii: 
iii:, cxi'i']!! in iiiK' iiisi^'Tiiliraiit ali^Mii^i i<y 
fRr-aiiii-rasy l,n,i.l..ii siil.url.. \\lii')i v\a'- 
n i|iiiu' iiiii'riwliU'tivc nf JTiiitatiun. 


AKCiilTEUTUitE 157 


Amongst the most notable works in church building special mention 
must be made of the new Cathedi'al of Truro, by Pearson. The competi- 
tion for a cathedral at Liverpool, however, was a more ambitious 
enterprise, promising us a revival of the pomp of ecclesiological profusion 
for the gratification of the pride of the merchant princes of the ^lersey ; 
but it ended, as almost all great competitions do, in nothing but disap- 
pointment, except that the design of Brooks was very remarkal)le for 
characteristic muscularity of treatment. Mere ordinary church work, 
although diminished in quantity, owing to the commercial depression of 
the time, has still Ikhjii of high quality, and the places of Scott, Burges, 
and Street, as they successively died, were not unworthily filled by men 
of repute like Pearson, Bodley, Blomfield, and Brooks, while many 
younger men were continually making an equally honourable attempt to 
gain equal fame. The restoration of St. Alban's Abbey has awakened a 
great deal of controversy, owing to the unusual circumstiince of Sir 
Edmund Beckett (Lord Grimthorpe) having paid the piper in consider- 
ation of being j)ermittcd, not only to call the tune, but to play it with 
his own hand, to the great scandal of the world of critics. Roman 
Catholic churches in excellent Gothic have still Xmm produced : but 
others in the Italian mode have also made their api^earance, one jmr- 
ticularly fine example being the Oratory at Bromj)ton, by Gribble. 
Nonconformist churches have l)een, as before, sometimes Gothic and 
sometimes Classic. More and more attention has been devoted to the 
detail of hiterioi*s ; but the hitroduction into St. Paul's, London, of a 
magnificent reredos in Italian Rococo has not Jis vet initiated anv new 
artistic movement. 

In connection chiefly with ecclesiastical work, the pmctice of 
restoration in the form of renovation has come to he discussed with 
much anxiety, and indeed acerbity ; architects of the school of Scott 
being contemptuously assiiiled by certain outside artists and amateurs led 
by the distinguished decorative designer ^lorris. The new doctrine in 
its integrity goes so far as to declare that all authentic work, even of the 
most recent recognisable date, regarded (piite apart from its artistic 
merits, and solely on account of its historical character, ought to be held 
sacred, never altered, never renewed, not even latched, but maintained 
in its full authenticity by such means as will keep it in a mere condition 
of existence as long as possible ; so that an " Old Mortality " would not 
be allowed even to '* restore " the half-obliterated name u]X)n a gmve- 
stone. Xo doubt there is something fascinating here in theory ; but it 
has earned its advocates much farther than the owners and occupiers of 
old structures can conveniently agree to follow them, or the professional 
architects whom they consult as practical men of business. At any 
rate, the controversy, however interesting, is best regarded as an 
ait'hii'ologic'al one. 

In Classical work we have had several competitions of high class ; 


one for the War Office and Admiralty in London, resulting in nothing, 
as usual ; another for the Glasgow Municiiial Buildings, won, iwt so un- 
profitably, by Young ; and a third for Munici])al Buildhigs at Edinburgh, 
resulting as usual. A ver}' remarkable edifice, vainglorious in the 
extreme, the Ilolloway College, by Crossland, is a ponderous imitation 
of a French chateau. Hotels, business houses, residential chambers, 
nnuiicipal offices, and other subjects of street architecture, in London and 
the provincial towns, have been produced in great abundance, and with 
considerable success, in various forms of academical and hybrid Italian. 
On the whole, however, the advance of the Queen Anne fashion has 
interfered ^•ery materially with Classic practice ; at first it used to be 
ostentatiously called " Free Classic '' by its leading promoters, but it has 
been so much more free than Classic, that the designation has died out. 

It lias to be }:>iirticularly observed that in public competitions, and 
in tliu work of students at the Roval Ac-ademv and the Institute of 
Architects, the develoj^ment of good (Massic design has been of late 
incn'risingly well exhil)ited, and sometimes with an indication of French 
infineiice. The study of Renaissance detail of the Italian school, 
altliough fre(juently drifting towards the Roc(K'(), has also dcme good 
service. Iienaissance of the Flemish and German tyjyes — all called 
** (,)neen Anne" for short — has of coni*se been at the Siime time a 
favourite study, but with less of artistic discrimination than of admiration 
for the dangerous (juality of (piaintness. 

The buildiiiL^s actnallv executed in the Queen Anne stvle have been 
numerous and of all kinds, u'ood, bad, and indifferent, mostly indifferent. 
In commonplace examples, red brick has been the favourite material, 
an<l red tilin<>: has been larirelv added in the form of prominent roofs. 
Ch'na mental gables, sometimes of enriched and sometimes of very 
iinpoN'erished effect, seem to be regarded as the leading feature of the 
mode, witli all kinds of dormei*s by way of suj)plementaries, as if garrets 
were the most characteiistic i)art of the acconnnodation. Huge chinmey 
stacks, also, are thrust into view with the utmost hardihood, making 
them often the princijml means of investing the com|)osition with artistic 
merit — suivlv not of a hiirh order. AVooden bay windows are deemed so 
essential that they are actually recessed into the wall rather than they 
should be omitted. Paltry doorways and incomprehensible little windows 
enter their j>rotest against dignity without, and 'Miooks '' and "ingles," 
twisted passages, breakncH'k stej>s for the sake of the (luestionable 
plea'^ure of surja'ise, and tipsy arrangements generally, carry out the 
Siime scheme of artistic merriment within. Breadth of treatment and 
rej)ose are understood to mean the introduction of an occasional exj)iinse 
of ostentatiously j)lain brick wall, or two or three windowless storeys in 
a sha})eless tower, as a foil to the asi)ect of j)leasiintry elsewhere ; and 
when the window-sashes are made like the lattices of a fancy bird-Ciige, 
and all the external wood-work painted with the brightest of white k'Aji^ 


after the manner of a doll's-house, the domestic virtue of " the Queen 
Anne style " is at length fully asserted. In far l)etter work than this, 
and in the hands of really good artists, the detail is still so coai'se and 
corrupt — for the sake of " quaintness " — that even careful proportions 
and graceful forms fail to redeem the character of the composition : and 
it is doubtful whether any specimen of the style above the rank of a 
country cottage will withstand the commonest criticism twenty years 
hence. But nevertheless there is one respect in which we may accord a 
certain amount of praise to this singular fashion. The dainty lady-like 
furniture-design of some of the interiors is certainly more than ])ix»tty ; 
it is minor art work in excehis, ^Vhether it is high class architecture is 
quite another question ; but it fully illustrates the principle that academical 
pretension is giving way before the advance of the popular appreciation 
of art, more enjoyable Ixxiause more 8inii)le. 

It was the competition for the Offices of the London School Board 
on the Thames Embankment, won by Bodley, that first brought the more 
monumental Queen Anne into recognised popularity a few years l)efore 
the period under review. The public schools built all over Loudon by 
Robson, Stevenson being also concerned in them, came to l)e designed in 
a similar style, with unusual jxirsistency, and, considering their simjilicity, 
with frequent success. Examples of chief imix^rtance in other classes have 
been the Alliance Insurance Office in Pall Mall, by Xoruian Shaw : the 
City of London Guilds' Institute, by Waterhouse ; the National Lilxjnil 
Club-house, by Waterhouse.; the Constitutional Club-house, by Edis ; the 
Birmingham Law Courts, by Aston Webb and Bell ; and the Ini])erial 
Institute, now in hand by Collcutt ; and certain dwelling-houses at South 
Kensington, by George, have attracted jmrticular attention by retison 
of the pretty audacity of their character in the author's drawings, and 
the very different but ei^ual bmvery of their effect in red brick. There 
is a warehouse in Oxford Street, also l>y Collcutt, which has probably 
the most showy facade in England for the money. TeiTa-cotta is 
largely used in all this kind of work, somethnes in cnide and even vulgar 
red, and sometimes in one or another shade of buff, but never as yet with 
that really careful though free artistic finish of form and colour with 
which the material seems to be cajmble of l)eing treate<l. 

In direct connection with the development of Architectural Art diu'ing 
this i)eriod, it nuist Iw observed that the design of glass staining, mural 
jDainting, wall jmiixji's, carving, cabinet making, metal working, colour 
decoration, upholstery, and so on, even to the furnishing of ship 
cabins, has lK>en engsiging more and more the attention of highly 
educated architects, proud of their success. 

Tluit the innnediate future of English architecture is larL^'lv bound 
up with the progress of the present fashionable movement is a fact that 
must be looked fairly in the face. Alwurd as its inferior manifestations 
too frequently are, pali)able as are its critical shortcomings even in the 


most favourable circumstances, it evidently contains an element which 
creates popularity by meeting a popular want, the demand for mis- 
cellaneous art for the multitude — not the mol), but the public at large. 
Even chui*ch design may not Ije long unaffected by this strong motive 
power. AVlien what is spoken of as Romanesque, or even Byzantine, is 
often suggested as the next step in Gothic modification, it is not at all 
unlikely that it may turn out to be some species of Renaissance — not 
Rococo — which shall combine with ecclesiastical solemnity a certain 
relaxation, in a direction more gracious than that of the mere slapdash 
pictures(jue. In municipal buildings it is still more probable that the less 
severe details of Renaissance work will come to Ikj accepted, introducing 
a brighter or more playful form of the standard McMlern European, which 
niiiv then take general possession also of ordinary street art^hitecture and 
domestic design in towns. If this should so turn out, then the style of 
thirtv veal's hence may be a novel An trio-Classic, robnst in general 
character, carefully elegant in moulding and in mmlelling, picturesque 
within the limits of repose, and at last, like the Franco-Classic, no longer 
exotic and anomalous. 

Illistuatioxs of Recent Architecture in England. — The 
exami)les which are here presented must be necessarily very few in 
number ; and they ciinnot pretend to constitute anything like a 
discriminating selection, as regards either the sjxicial merits of the 
buildings or the title of their authors to more distinctive mention. 
The reader must be asked to regard them as being in a great measure 
taken at random and under ol)vious difficulties, for the simple purpose 
reiillv in view, namelv, the submission for his consideration of certain 
desijrns which are snfficientlv characteristic historically of the work of 
the age. An adeijuate presentment of that work in its entirety is 
hapjMly to be found in the admirable illustrations which the professional 
journals have for many years |)ast so coj)iously supplied to the world. 

AVe may very naturally take first the univei-Siilly known and admired 
monunR'nt erected in London to the memorv of the late Prince Consort, 
in a certain sense the rhcf-^ra'uvrp of Sir Gill)ert Sc^ott (Illustration No. 
2V,)q). The sinij)le magnificen(?e of its design, and the extraordinary 
splenilour of its adornment, confer u|)on the Albert ^Memorial the very 
highest distinction amongst modem works of art ; and it hapjK^ns that 
its jxruliarities of execution serve in a certain measure to enij)hasise the 
idea of strait-laced aciidemicnlism being undermined by the more 
popular principle of the day. It could certainly not be claimed that 
Scott was a doctrinaire of the school of Cole ; but he (like Pngin and 
Burges also) was an e(|nally earnest advocate of the Siinie liberal views 
of the Arts in a ditfcrent form. Cole was an overt hrower of the 
academical svstem : Scott was a reformer of that svstem. Cole con- 
ceived the idea of almost abolishing the aivhitect, as a pretender, and 
setting up the artizan in his place as a reality ; but Scott's aim was to 
VOL. n. ^ 



utilise the architect as a reality to the utmost, in the capacity of a 
trained general officer of artizans, the chief of all the workmen. His 
continual cry, it is true, was for better artizans, not for bett^T 
architects ; but these ideal workers were always to work under an ideal 
architect as chief-worker — one who should direc*t them, not as a mere 
commercial a^ifent, but as an expert univei*sjil artist rejoicinj^ alike in all 
their work. The All)ert Memorial wius of course not lictuallv intended 
for an object-lesson in this direction ; but those who care to study its 
motives will not tind it difficult to make it one. If it had l)een built of 
naked muscular masonrv and nothinir more, divested of all accessorial 
work, the mere academical architecture mijrht have become, by com- 
pulsion, much Ijetter than it is ; but as an essay in the combination 
of many arts on i)erfectly equal ^rround, none com[>etin<]; with the 
architecture, but all constituting^ the architect's scheme of desiirn, the 
eflfect ujx)n the jmblic intelli^j^encc is a far <ri*an(ler result. The other 
day the French ^linister of Fine Art found hinisolf undt-r the necessity 
of commentinjr to the Iie.Lrislature on the dithculty he exjierienced in 
procurinjr harmonious action between the architects of public buildinjjfs 
and the other artists eni])loye(l under their control. Now it is well known 
that the French decorative artist has loii^ (K-cu])ied what may be re^rarded 
as a su])eri()r ]»()sition to the En«rlish : and especially when such a thiuir as 
8cul])ture or other decoration of a liiirh class is in (|uestion. It is eijually 
well understood that in France the education of the architect is conducted 
on the most laboriouslv acadenn'cal lines : and indeed that the same niav 
be siiid of all art-workei^s whatever. Conteniplatiuir, therefore, the 
incident before us in a serious liirht, are we to be afraid lest the better 
education of the ** minor " artist in p]nirland, and the better recoirnition 
of the eiiualitv in diirnitv of all artists, niav lead to discord of this 
kind ? Not necessiirily. it is to be hojied : but how far is such a I'isk to 
l)e avoided bv utilisiuir the architect more and more as master of all arts ? 
One thin*:; at least may be said, the |>eculiar technical training" which is 
involved in the practical acijuisition of professional architectural skill 
seems to iml)ue a j)ro|Kjrly constructed mind with sound princij)les of 
anatonucal design which are not to be acipiired elsewhere. 

Takinir the other illustrations in the order in which they are ])laced, 
Fiir. 1^1 IV/ (j)a|re !:>")) represents the celebrated Chiu'ch of All Saints, 
Mar<raret Street, London, by Butterfield : the j)riKlnction of which 
marked the inaiiirimition of a new architectural motive. This was, in 
short, the elevatinjr of the standard of the hi<,diest of Hi*rh-Church 
buildinir ; and the standard-bearer was Beresford-Ho]X). It has to be 
observed that one of the primary principles in this extreme kind of 
ecclesiastical arcliitec;ture seems to be the coercive production of the 
" dim religious li*rht '' of the jx)et. Internally, at least, the ex])ress ex- 
clusion of conmion worldly davlijrht — which has been a rule from the 
earliest ages to the latest wherever mysteiy had to be cultivated — contri- 


bates so ^rreatly to the creation of a feeling of awe that it becomes a 
direct and leading historical element in Art. It may be suggested 
that one chief difference Ixjtween the forms of worship of the Romanists 
and those of the Protestants (until lately) is that in the one case the light 
of day is intentionally shut out, and in the other intentionally let in. 
In the one case, accordingly, the exercise of imairination is encouraged ; 
in the other it is restrained. That imaginative worship develops into 
artistic worehip has been abundantly proved ; and it need not be denied 
that the unimaginative and the inartistic go equally well together. 
With regard, however, to the external mannerisms that come to be 
cultivated as if in harmony with the darkened effects of ritualistic 
interiors, it seeuLS to be questionable whether they ought to be con- 
sidered as normally austere or not. Inasmuch as colour decoration very 
promptly asserts its imi)ortance within, this soon leads to the study of 
colour without ; but colour in artificial obscmity and colour under the 
open sky are obviously different things. Turning then for a moment to 
the architecture proj)er of All Saints' Church, it may suffice to observe 
that it is intentionally gloomy both inside and out ; but if we direct our 
attention to the spire alone, we may consider that we are contemplating 
the most characteristic feature. The reader will ask himself, of course, 
whether it is a good or a bad comiK)sition ; and he may answer the 
question as he pleases. Hut it must be remembered that, at the time 
this spire was built, the more austere and gniceless styles of Neo-Gothic 
had not as yet l)een evolved, the sj)uri()us merit of malice prepense had 
not l)een su^^^gested to the mind. It may fairly enough be recorded that 
" Butterliehrs spire " was generally lironounced to be intentionally poor. 
But it nuist be admitted at the Siime time that its poverty did not fail 
to gain ui>ou the affections of a great many acute critics, and it may be 
added that it cannot be Siiid to have lost its hold to this day. If, however, 
the student cares to discriminate with sufficient pains the i)eculiarities of 
treatment attaching to the work of the leading an.'hitects res|)e(.^tively of 
the modern Anglo-Crothic School, he will certainly find that intentional 
severity has never won ixirmanent ajjproval, but that a desire for 
pleasantness always has : even in this it is better to smile than to frown, 
and the merits of All Saints' Church are generally voted to be, at the 
best, needlessly lugubrious. 

St. Vincent's Church, Cork, by Goldie, (Xo. 210/>, page K^H), Ls offered 
as a good examj)le of much more agreeable design ; a Roman Catholic 
example also, and an Irish example. There is no reason in the world 
why good (iotliic should be in any degree of hon'id as|)ect, and mucli of 
the authentic ancient work was \'ery notal)ly different. 

Fettes College, Edinburgh, by Bryce, (Xo. 21 Or, piige 140), is selected 
as a Scotch work both of pretension and of merit. In Scotch buildings of 
the best class there is almost always exhilnted, if jK)ssible, a tendency of a 
pseudo-patriotic kind towards the introduction of certain quite obsolete 


features — such as the tourelle or angle turret and the stepped gabli 
which are supposed to be essentially of native character. Critically this 
can scarcely be regarded otherwise than as an affectation, and scarcely 
in any circumstances an excusable one. The reason seems to be that, 
up to the time of Queen Elizabeth, Scotland had much more sympathy 
with France than with England ; Queen Mary, it Avill be remembered, 
was actually Dauphiness of France. Therefore, when the English 
gentry were building what we call Tudor and Elizabethan mansions, the 
Scotch were building a sort of French chateaux. Accordingly, so 
obstinate is human custom, that when a Scotch architect of the present 
day puts " pepper-boxes " and " corbie-steps," jwr fas end nefas^ alike 
upon his Italian, his Gothic, and his Queen Anne, we must jmrdon him 
for his patriotism's sake, and only most respectfully ask whether his 
designs would not be a little lietter without them. 

The Manchester Town Hall (No. 210^/, pige 141) will probably 
always be regarded, historically at least, as the clipf-iV Ccuvre of AVater- 
house. At the time of building, it was ceitainly the most demonstrative 
work in Secular Gothic that had Ixjen attempted, and perhaps the most 
successful. There Ls tliis remarkable contrast, amongst others, between 
France and England, that whereas in Fmnce tlie gi'eat provincial cities 
are more or less respectful subordinates of Paris, in England they are 
more or less distinctly indei)endent and almost aggressive rivals of 
London ; in other words, the local " ratepayers," if their community Ikj 
big enough, and their funds and borrowing }X)wers consecjuently liberal 
enough, and if their local pride can be sufficiently aroused, are able 
to build quite as grandly as the GovernniMit, and much more in- 
dependently of control. At Liveqxx)l, amongst the multitude of more 
ordinary municipal edifices, all costly enough in their way, there stands 
one, St. George's Hall, (Plate 208, page 88 ) of which it is not too much 
to say that no Government at AVhitehall would have ever dared to 
propose the building of such a structure ; even that grand escapade of 
Parliament in the architectural way, its own Palace of AA'estminster, 
compared by measure of working accommodation, comes far behind St. 
George's Hall in largeness of ideas. At any rate, the Town Hall of 
Manchester is a truly splendid specimen of the liberality of an English 
municiptility ; and a proof of the soundness of the modern English 
principle of local self-reliance, as opposed to State assistance, for the 
advancement of Art. How far the style of design is suited to the 
business that goes on in the edifice is not a question to be now taken in 
hand ; it has passed into the province of historical, not practical 
criticism ; but one tiling that may certainly be said is that the pains- 
taking architect has made the best of both proportions and dt'tail. 

The church (or cathedral) of St. ^laiy's, Edinburgh, by Scott (Xo. 
219^, page 148), is the outcome of the celebrated competition of designs 
in which Burges and Street so much distinguished themselves. Street's 


design was archaic and austere, as usual ; Burges's was ambitiously 
develoix^d, refined, and elegant : Scott's was more unaffected, simple, and 
in eveiT way moderate and modest — what an influential minority call 
common]>lace and weak, but a still more influential majority approve 
and accept. The churches of Sh* Gill)eit Scott are so numerous, and 60 
uniNei^sally distributed, that there are very few ]x.^rsons of taste who 
have not seen one or more six.*cimens of his ever gracious and pleasing 
style, amiable and unoffending like his own nature. The present 
example, although (piite characteristic of his mcnle, does not pretend to 
illustrate it to the very lx*st advantage ; it is presented more for its 
historical vahie. 

The Town Hall at Congleton (Xo. 21!}/', pige 140), is a 8[)ecimen of 
the work of that gifted artist but inveterate Bohemian, Edward Godwin. 
It is considered to Ixi one of our best examples of Secular Gothic, and 
all the more so because it is small and unambitious. Its graces of 
projK)rtion — the chief object of the designer after all — sj)eak for them- 
selves, even on so inadetjuate a scale of delineation. 

A Bank at Birkenhead by Seddon (No. '2\\\f/. i>age 147), is another 
successful example of Secular (iothic. unas.^unn'ng in character, and with 
its (rothicism dulv modilied to acconl with the conditions of modem 
business and residence. It is onlv fair to sav that judicious modification 
of this sort characterised a LTeat deal of the ordinarv desiirninir of the 
Gothic school : so that it was often matter for regi'et that the ina])pro]>riate 
features and details which were held to be indis]K'nsable for style shoidd 
not have been mow ingeniouslv dealt witli for convenience. 

The next illustration (Xo. 21!)//, ])age 14^), shows one of the best 
l>ortions of the famous Law Courts of London, by Street. It would l>e 
useless to give the gi'eat Strand fayade, for several reasons. Its com- 
position, critically consideretl, is still the subject of controversy, and 
opinion is connnonly adverse to it. ^loreover, everybody knows it by 
heart. Lastly, it is too large as a whole, and too fragmentary in any 
pirt. I^ut if we could reproduce on an ade(piate scale the architect's 
autoin'aph drawinir (it is in the L^allerv of the Roval Academv as his 
diploma work), it mav Sid'elv l)e said that anvone might reasonablv l)e 
ex<'used for denying that it represents the building. The ex(]uisite 
touch of Street's drauirhtsnianship was i\ienomenal : it consecrated any- 
thinir. IHd it deceive himself ? Verv probably it did. It mav not be 
amiss here to refer to the always remarkable difference between English 
architectural drawing and French. One sees at a glance that the 
French drawing — say a delicately shallowed elevation — is essentially 
Classic, and that tl:v coiTesponding English drawing — a ])ictures(|uely 
and indeed rudely sketched ]H.a^]x.'Ctive — is as thoroughly Gothic. It is 
the same difference, of course, that juvvails between the French Iniildhig 
and the English building. There was the Siime dilTerence, again, 
between the Classic designiuir and buildintr of Greece and Rome and the 


Gothic designing and building of Mediaeval Europe. The Parthenon 
was built of marble delicately \vrought ; it might just as well have been 
built of silver, or of crystal, or of steel, and the greater the elaboration of 
workmanship the more exquisite the effect of finesse. The same, to a 
certain extent, may be said of even such modern buildings as Wren's St. 
Paul's. But a glance at Westminster Abl)ey, or, let us sacy, Canterbury 
Cathedral or York Minster, suggests a very different style of treatment. 
Refinement of workmanship would not merely be wasted, it would be 
destructive of character. Much more appropriate would it be to build 
the great picturescjue pile with the coarsest material and the roughest 
craftsmanship. AVithin reasonable limits, the ruder the work the more 
muscular and impressive it is ; like an ancient Gothic song, of war or 
peace, revenge or love, all equally rude and muscular if really Gothic. 
But (returning to our draughtsnianshij)) what is the result of this 
radical difference lK3tween the French mode and the English ? If the 
actual buildintr is intended to l)e executed with ordinarv neatness and 
precision, the French drawing is ol)viously the re])resentation of truth. 
If, on the other hand, the English drawing is to be the equivalent of 
truth, the execution of the building ought to be eijually rough and ready, 
or the effect of j)ictures(iuenes8 is ver^' likely to be a failure. Indeed, it 
was for this verv reason that such failures in Secular Gothic were so 
numerous : and in ** Queen Anne " work the case is still the same. The 
one advantage in the English system is the use of |)ei'sj)ective draughts- 
manshi]), which is carried to gi'eat ]x.'rfe(;tion as regards the effect of the 
solid fif hioc ; but the sj)ecial merit of the French system is the encom- 
agenient it affords for jwinstaking modelling en defdil. 

A t'a\()urite jn'oduction of Street's in his more ])ro])er province of 
ecclesiastical design was the new ]X)rch at I^ristol Cathedral (No 219/ 
l>age 1 V.^ ). Although, as matter of historical criticism, it is no doubt 
(juite eorrect to identify Street with the stern duty, as he thought it 
of forcing comfortal)le people at the end of the nineteenth century to 
acce])t the uncomfortable architectural (conditions of the thirteenth, as 
being the narrow way that leadeth unto life, it would be altogether wrong 
to su]>]K)se that he was devoid of the sense of graceful and even elegant 
projK)rtion when he jiermitted himself to ])lease his eye though his heart 
might ache. The engraving, by the way, as the reader who is accus- 
tomed to Street's work will jierceive, is produced l)y photographic 
process from an actual drawing of the architect's, bearing his signature, 
an«l will serve, therefore, to illustrate his charming style of handling as 
well as his true artistic taste. 

It may reijuire a little reflection to understand the reason why the 
next illustration is presented in conjunction with the last as a specimen 
of the Avork of Burges (Xo 219/'-, page 150). It is hojx^d that justice 
has been done in other pages to the merits of this quaint man of genius ; 
and if the reader has grasped the true character of his mind he will 


clearly see that the famous chimney-piece in the house which he built for 
himself in Melbury Road, Kensin^on, has been selected (by an appreci- 
ative friend) as a good thing to know him by. It must not l)e imagined 
that our odd enthusiast meant this to ])e a travesty of art ; very mucli 
the reveree. He jokes with his subject, no doubt ; l)ecause he always 
had a leaning'that way, and where was he to indulge it without restrahit 
if not in his o\ni house ? Thus it is that tliis example is Burges pure 
and simple. Of the jx'culiarities of the architectural design nothing 
need be said except that they are Burges's pleasure for the moment. The 
sculpture is equally his own work, and his own pleasure. The whole 
affair is charged with jocosity ; but if those who are not already in the 
secret will understand that the foliated cor I )el -course over the fireplace 
has the alphal)et half hidden amongst the foliage, their attention may Ixj 
directed to one end of the lintel, where they will see that the letter H 
has been ** droj)j)e(l,'' as a touch of humour not l)eyond the reach of Art. 

Lowther I^odge, Kensington (No 21'J/, jMige I'rl), is one of Norman 
Shaw's favourite works, and exhibits verv well the merits of the l)e8t 
order of Queen Anne desiirn of the domestic class. It is obviouslv in 
domestic building that such a style of architectural treatment is really 
at home ; an<l the retined proportions of some of this architect's simplest 
brick 1 louses are certainly very striking. AVhetlier ecpial success can ever 
be hoped for in ap])Iying the more ambitious version of Queen Anne, or 
Flanders Rococo, to ])ublic buildings in onr towns, the reader nuist 
determine for himself. 

The House at Harrington (iardens, by (ieorge (No 'IW^ni, juige \*)'^)y 
shows a stvle of treatment which is verv much admired bv nianv, as a 
more legitimate ** Queen Anne" mode. English it does not pretend to 
l)e, and so nuich the U'tter. But here airain is a case in which extra- 
ordinarily pictures(jue draughtsmanshij> goes far to ju'oduce architecture 
on piper which fails to maint^iin its charm when realised in red brick. 
The courage, however, of some of this architect's designs is what seems 
to be their most remarkable merit, and the comjihite accord of interior 
with exterior in su])j>orting the accepted histrionic idiosyncrasy. 

In the Church of the Holy Inncxients at Hammersmith i No ill)//, 
page 155), we have an exceedingly characteristic siKt-inien of the very 
popular work of Brooks. The motive of this architect seems to ]>e to 
emulate the austerity of Strwt, but to be courageously original in that 
direction where Street would be strictlv authentic. The muscularitv of 
all Brooks's work is undem'able, and its sim})licity iind independence. 

St. Mary's Church, Portsea, by Blomtield (No iMiir?, juige 150), may 
be studied as a sound exami)le of (juite unaffected and careful design in 
a new church of large dimensions for practical English purposes. It is 
a thoroughly modest work, and the accomi)lished arcliitect can well 
afford to have it lookcni at somewhat askance by those who prefer high 
action to repose. 



llanv admirable buildiiiga have of latf years been carried ont by the 
university authoritiea at Oxford and Cambridge ; all more or less 
animatwl by an imitative spirit of course, for our two great seats of 
leartiiii;: ure not mucli inoderniBed as yet. Viirioiis leading architects 
have l>eeu employed, but the "Schools" at Oxford by Jackson (No 2I9p, 






pajri' l'>7), may be deemed partiailariy well worthy of illustration, as 
showiiii: liow ouu of the Irest opiiort unities iias l)ee[i iiiiniu available for 
pr<j(l\niii^ an ensemble of the hifrhest oixler of attractive proijortions. 
Tile jrt'ii]K.T iiiinie for the Style of desifrn the reader may detennine for 
hiiuseir. with due re^'ard for the exigencies of the day. 

The last of this scries of illustrations (So il'Jr), represents a verj 


peculiar style of design which \vtis the specialty of Alexander Thomson 
of Glasgow — " Greek Thomson " as he was called. There are several 
prominent works of liis in Glasgow wliich display most remarkable merit. 
He carried the Hellenic motive back to meet the Egyptian, and modern- 
ised both with much painstaking of detail. He hoped to be the founder 
of a new school, but that was impossible. — Ed.] 



[Canada. — The influence of English practice upon the architecture 
of North America must be considered in some detiiil under the hetui of 
the United States ; and the progress of the art in Canada might not 
improperly be dealt with m jxirt of that question, inasmuch as the 
enterprising ])ractitioners of the Great Republic seem (juite disjwsed, 
and very naturally, to claim the Canadian towns as a ]X)ition of their 
own professional territory. But whether the English authority is ac- 
cepted (tow England directly, or through the United States as an inter- 
maliary, is innnaterial, the recent architecture of Canada has un(iue3- 
tionably followed close u|K)n P^nglLsh develo])ment. ^Most of the best 
work seems to have l)een actuallv done bv Englishmen ; the French 
element does not appear to make itself s[)ecially discernible ; and there 
is no separable native influence of any im]X)itance. In the old-fashioned 
towns the style of design is of the same (juaint, but valueless and 
spiritless character of commonplace eighteenth century work which 
belonged to the settlements of New England, and indeed to other 
British colonies. But within the last half-century the use of the Italian 
style for the municipal edifices, the Gothic for the ecclesiastical, and 
the local patriarchal moile for the domestic, has l)een the rule, the 
Secular Gothic making an effort here and there, and the Free Classic 
taking its place in due course, but all in the modest way that Ix'flts a 
community considered to l)e rather Ixihind the age in these stirring 
times. ^Ioi*e recently, however, several buildings of much higher 
pretensions have made their mark ; and our lK»st course will be to present 
characteristic illustnitions of these, which can sjx?ak for themselves. 

The building at the McGill Univei-sity, ^lontreal, shown in Plato 
No. 2Wi<^ represents veiT fairly a sufficiently graceful treatment of 
Classic — indeed of Neo-Grec, although scaR^ely in French form — on 
somewhat academical ground. The reader will find several indications 
in tliis design of that kind of inde])endent thought which is charac- 
teristicallv Americtm. 

The Parliamentary Library at Ottawa (No. 210/), is a portion of a 


very extensive Palace of the Legislature, all in the sami; Iwld and 
meritorious Mediajvalist mauiier. Whether the style iji itself is &]y 
propriate to the traditions of the country may Itu matter for debate, and 
no doubt is so amongst local critics ; but the successful picture»iut:iieBa 
of the desif^ cannot l)e disputed, and probably it will be acknowledged 
that the sptcial niassiveness of treatment aecorda sufficiently well with the 
climatic conditions. 

Numerous interesting examples might of coui-se be given of good 
modern work iu Canada, but these two will suftice to satisfy the reader 
of the superior quality of the l>e8t of it. 

ArsTRALu ASD New Zealasd. — Speaking gL-nerally, th*.' proiiifss 
of architecture in Sydney, Mcllx»uriie, Adelaide, Auckland, AVellington, 
and other towns at the antipodes, has been on the same lini« as in the 
United States of America. The influence of Enghsh pi-.ictice has Ix-en 
aimilar, the same styles of design haxe l»eeu act^jptefl, and the same 
treatment has been followed. At the e]Mx;hal date of iJJiil it may lie 



said that all the cbief towiis of these colonies were already building 
chiirehts of coiisiderahle pretension, and niuniciiial edifices sti'l more 
aniViitiouB — City Halls, Post Offices, Law Courts, Banks, lustiraiice 
Offift's, and so oti — (juiti; on a imr with those of the provincial towns 
ill England ; while the snbnrimn Colleges and Asylums, the great 
warfhousfs for trade, and the private dwelling-houses of wealthy citizens, 
were not Jn any great degree backward. Since then, it need not l>e said, 
the elTect of international conn nunicat ion has lieen as retnarkable here as 
elsewhere thnnighout the world ; all the Industrial Arts liave advanced, 
and Architecture, the chief of them, the most conspicuoasly. 

The Ilonses of rarliiiniect at Jk-lli(iiiriie (Xii. I'llh/), may justly lie 
called a \ery giiiiid cxaiii]ile of architecturiil design, in every way 
worthy of a great Knglish coIdiiv. If tiie reader will at once cuniiwre 
it attentively with the corrcsiwnduig and no less meritorious edifice at 
Sydney (Xo. HO;/}, no matter on which side bis jx-rsonal symimthies 
of taste hajiiien to be, the contrast may 8er\'e to illustrat* forcibly the 


rival claims of Cliiswic uiid Gothic to be regarded as tlie most approprinU) 
style for public biiil<liujrs of BUproine importance. On the one hmid we 
have a most digniiied repose ; on the other a most plaj-ful piotureBijuf- 

neas. Academical stateliiiess nt Jlelhonme, such as no one would 
venture U> ]iro]K>se just now in Eiifrlund. is contrasted with tlie hajf- 
aeverc and half -sportive Secular Gothic at Sydney, which a short t«a& 


ago «"rtfi liL-lil liy most of um to Iw tlio only i)roj»cr dress for English 
Lmililiiig, tsjMX'iiilly wlicn it ii|i|K.'nktl by nny mtitiis to socinl traditions. 
Of i.-oui'su there lire no tniditiunii ut Sydney wliich connect niiiivt; liiston- 
with uitlier tlie GermBn or the Venetian art which is here imitated. 
Nor is tliere any such connection at Uolbourue with tlio Louvre or 




Versailles. But in both cases alike, iitid quite iudiscnmiiiutttly, the 
traditiona of Old England may claim authority ; and the ijuostiori for 
the reader to reflect upon is the apparently easy, but really most difficult 
point — what ia the English style ? At the present moment, some of 
our architects would Bcarcely hesitate to affirm that both of these colonial 
palaces inifrht have been excellently well-developed in erude red brick, 
one with temi-cotta intermixed perhaps, and the other with nothing 

better than neatly rnblx'd and carved "i 
sugjrestioTi of such a jest (JU}.'ht to iru far 
an idle fashion may ^K^, and how re;idily 
fashionable an-hitwt to receive ik-rision 
plaiisc. Hnt wc may safely say that in ra 
do we see tile true tradiiioiis of Eniriand si 
then, at the contrast of style from another jioint of view. It is well 

, show 1 

s ho« 


k a thins: 

niav b 



fate of a 

■om iKis 



id of a]t- 

her of t 

le des 


liefore us 

■udely \- 



el us look, 


kiio\\ii that the usual faihiig of the grandiose Classic consists in the too 
prejudicial compromise of matters of internal anatomy which is de- 
manded by the exigencies of external symmetry ; wiiile the usual merit 
of the piquant Gothic lies in the independence of such inconvenient 
control which Ixjlongs to the spirit of irregularity. We may admit, for 
the siike of sufficient majesty without, that a reasonable amount of 
difficult adjustment within shall l>e fairly encountered, and a not 
unreasonable amount of incidental compromise accepted when the 
resom'ces of ingenuity have Ixicn fully exhausted. We may also admit — 
now that Seculjir Gothic has l)een superseded by Flandere Rococo — that 
there can be no doubt of the facility with which the Gothic principle 
can be applied to meet all the anatomy of building, provided only that 
the mere traditional features of authenticity shall be judiciously sacrificed 
to the claims of more modern feeling. Whether, as Fergusson suggests, 
there is a via nwtUa to be dL^covored which shall jirovide us with all or 
nearly all the stiitely rcjKJse of the Melbourne design, and all or nearly 
all thf libtTty and pi(iuancy of the Sydney design, is of course a question 
for the future, and probably not for the more immediate future. 

The Roman Catholic Cathedral of St. Patrick at Melbourne (No. 
219j), is presented, not for the criticism of a certain school of eccle- 
siastical ])urists, but to show what our colonists can do in creditable 
and costly church building. It seems doubtful, indeed, whether we at 
home can alwa>'s do so much and so well. 

The Parliament Houses and Government Offices at Sydney (No. 
219y), have l)eeu considered a couple of piges back in contnist with the 
Houses of Parliament at Melbourne (Xo. 219//') ; and all that it seems 
necessarv to add is that the design is most creditable to the colon v, even 
if some of the local critics should Ihj founil to suggest that it is scarcely 
so much in ac^^'ord as a whole with the bright sky that holds the 
Southern Cross as with the more gloomy atmosphere where Ui*sa Major 

The Dalton Building at Sydney (No. 2192?) is offered as an illus- 
tration of the handling of an ordinary Italianes(iue motive with what 
must be called original feeling and undeniable success. The treiitment 
speaks for itself. — Ei).] 

vol.. II. ^' 





Ix describing the modern Architecture of Germany, it will Ik? con- 
venient to insist more stronjrly than has l)een necessary in the pre- 
ceding pages on the distinction which exists between the Renai finance 
and the Revival styles of Art, which was pointed out in the last 

Ry the former is meant that style which was practised in Enrojie 
during the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries, and may 
be described as an attempt to apply the details and princijiles of 
Classic Art to modern forms, and to ada]>t them to modern nsajjes 
and requirements. The Revival — which is wholly the creation of the 
nineteenth centiuy — pretends to reproduce the actual buildings of 
the earlier styles, with such correctness of det*iil as to cheat the most 
practised connoisseur into a l)elief that he is looking on an actual 
production of the age to which it professes to Ixilong, provided he can 
bring himself to believe he " didna see the biggin' o't." 

Bearing this distinction in mind, the Renaissiuice Architecture of 
Germany may be dismissed in a very few lines, inasmuch as, during 
these three centuries, not a single architect was produce<i of whom 
even his compatriots are proud, or whose name is rememl)ere(l in other 
countries ; and not a single building erected the architectuiv of which 
is worthy of much study, nor one that calls forth the admiration of 
even the most patriotic Germans themselves. 

The excuse for this state of things, so far as concerns Church 
Architecture, is, that the struggles of the Reformation, and the devas- 
tations of the Thirty Years' War, threw Germany Iwck for a century 
at least, and left her with a divided establishment and a sniK-rtluity of 
churc*hes — inherited from the aires of united faith and ecclesiastical 
supremacy ; while, on the other hand, the numlKT of small kingdoms 
and principalities into which the country was divided, each with its 
own small capital, prevented them from indulging in that m iirnifi- 


cence in Secular Art which the unity of the greater monarchies 
enabled them to display. 

The real cause probably lies deeper, and will be found in the fact 
that, however great or good the Germiius may be in other respects, 
they have no real feeling for the refinements of Art, and no taste for 
architectural display. In fact, since the great age of the Hohen- 
staufen, Germany has done nothing great or original in this direction. 
As was pointed out in a previous chapter,^ she borrowed her Pointed 
Gothic style from the French, and veiy soon marred it entirely by 
fancying that mechanical dexterity and exaggerated tours ih farce 
were the highest aim and objects of an art whose best (jualities are 
expressed by solidity and repose. In their painting, too, technical 
skill and patient elalwration of detail were (]ualitie8 more esteemed 
than the expression of emotion or the presentation of a poetical idea. 
There was a good deal to admire and much to wonder at in the Art 
of the Germans of the age immediately preceding the Reformation, 
but little that either appealed to the feelings, or awakened any of the 
deeper or more lasting emotions of the human heart. 

When, after the troubles of the sixteenth centurj', the Germans 
settled down to the more (jniet and prosperous years of the seven- 
teenth and eighteenth, the Teutonic mind seems almost to have 
forgotten that such a thing j\s a fine art existed — at least, as a living 
form of utterance that could Ixi i^ractised in those days. 

It is tnie that the wealth of the Saxon kings induced them to 
sixjud enormous sums on works of art, but their jmtronage took the 
form of purchasing the pictures of foreign artists, and nuumfacturing 
expensive toys at home, while they lived in a palace «^o mean in 
ap])earanct% that it refjuires strong faith in the veracity of your " valet 
de place" to believe that such is really a royal residence. It is true* 
also that Frederick of Prussia disi)layed his greatness in building 
French palaces as he wTote French verses ; but it is difficult to say 
which is the least worthy of the admiration of posterity. The truest 
t\'])e of Teutonic Art is perhaps the Burg at Vienna — the Imperial 
residence of the Emperors of Germany — on which each succeeding 
memlxjr of the House of Ha|)sburg has left his mark, but without 
one of them showing the least api)reciation of the value of archi- 
tectural display, or the smallest desire to depart from the most homely 
form of utilitarian convenience. 

Notwithstanding this Teutonic apathy to Art, there are a few 
buildings which caimot be passed over, being interesting, if not for 
their Ixjauty, at least for their originality, and the constructive 
lessons thev convey. 

* * History of Architecture,' vol. i , p. 560. 




OxE of tlie earliest and most reimirkablf ulitirchos of this epoch k that 
of St. Jliehiitil at ^luiiicli, built from tlio (iosigiis of an iircliitect called 
UuIUt. Ktwi-cn the jears In^.t and 1507. Tlie nave is one p^nd 
spacious Jiiill, lx<i feet long hy (J7 in width, covered by a simple 
wapfTun-viuilt of brickwork ttitlmnt any itillars or apparent abutment 
inside; the choir is narrower, hut in most ]ile;tsin<i: pro|)orCiou - to the 
nave; and tlie h^ihting, whicli is kept hi<:h. is just sutficient without 
being olitrusive. It wonlil ]ierha)w have l)W!ii lietter if the transept 
had l>een oniiitwi or differently managed ; Imt the nul defect of the 
church consists in the execrable details with which tlua noble design 


is carried out. These are so ofFcnBivclj bad that few trouble them- 

setvea to realise the grandeur of the design which they distigure, and 
estemally they are so much worse that few travellers care to enter a 
church which promises so little that oould be worthy of admiration ; 
bat if these can be forgotten or overlooked, it« dimensions are such 
tts few, if any, churtihea can eijual, either as regards spacionsness or 
harmony of proportions ; nor bus any churc-h of its age a vault of such 
daring bokbicsa of construction. 

The rcul interest of this design consists in its illustrating, as 
clearly as any that can lie t|U0Ced. what the early Benaissaiice 
architects were really aiming at in the changes they were intro- 
duchig. They felt — whether rightly or wrongly may Ix; i]Ue8tioncd — 
that the pillars with whicli the Gothic architects crowdwl their naves 
not only oc<mpicd a gi^ent deal of useful s]iace, but inttn-upted the 
view of tlie cercnionial at the altar, anil interfered with the L'nimleur 
of.tlie processions. The gri'at vault of the liomun Tlierniff; showed 
them how much larger S|(iife8 could l)e nwfed withotit suniorts : and, 
captivated with thL'ir discover}-, they sought instantly to adoj* it, in doing so ntshed to the other extreme. It was iicfideutnl that 
at the same time Che rage for Classical details should also have sprung 
up, but that was not the jirimury feeling ivhicb aipti\!ite<l the early 
architects. The resil motive ivas the vastness of Riiuukn designs ; 
and, whether at St. Peter's, at Miintua, or, in this instance, they 
sought to emulate the greatness more than the forms of the Classical 
structures. It was i-eally not till 
the time of Palladio and his school 
that they sought also to rejiro- 
duce tile plans and details^at 
least as the princi]))il object of a 
design. Had they adhered to the 
former system, we might perha|>« 
have hanlly regrettwl the change. 
It WHS the second inspiration that 
really ruinctl the art, aitd producetl 
all the incongruities which we 
afterwards lament. 

Hore original than this, and 
perhaps the most satisfactory 
church in Germany of this age, is -ai. FimofUuLiciiiniKa-Kireiif, nnsieii. 
the Liebfrauen-Kirche at Dresden. 

It is a Bijuarc church, 140 ft. each v,-&y, exclusive of the a|ist.', covered 
by a dome 75 ft. in diameter, resting on eight jiiers: but its great 
peculiarity being the perfect truthfulness with which it is con- 
struGt«d throughout. Internally and externally it is wholly of stone ; 
not oiUy the dome, but the whole of the roof is shown, and all is 


coiiBtructi^'ely true — a merit possessed by no other meduexfil or 
modern church. The shape, too, of the dome is sufficiently praceful 
extc'riially ; and, with its four su1>ordinat« turrets, forms the moet 
pleasiiiiT object in evtry view of the city. Ititenially, it ia too high 
in projKirtion to Its othtr dimensions, and, having no nave or tran- 
septs, it is mthitr well-like in upiiearaiice, nhtlu the effect has been 
further marred bv the theatrical niamier in which it has been fitted 

up. There is a repiilar pit, two tiers of lioxes, and a jrallerj- — all of 
the flimsiest construction, and iji the worst jxesible taste. Externally, 
too, there is a coarseness and vulL'arity in its deltiils wliich detracts 
very considei-ably from the effect ; but. not withstand in 5; these defects, 
it is the most pleasiiiff and snsitrestiie of German churehoa, and, 
with slifiht modifications, it miirht Ik; made very lieautiful ; but 
it would be expcctitij; too much to look for any frreat beauty of 
design in the age in which it was erected (1720-1745), or from an 

Cbap. I. 



unknown individual like Behr, who has the credit of being its 

Like the Jesuits' church at Munich, it was an effort to do some- 
thing tliat neither the Roman nor Gothic architects had achieved, and 
was only unsuccessful from its being a first attempt. Those who are 
aware how many hundreds — it mav l)e said thousands — of repetitions 
were necessary before a really satisfactory Gothic church was built, 
should not feel surprised tliat this first essay to realise a novel form 
should not Ikj (juite successful ; but if a second, or third, or fourth had 
been demanded, the last, or at least the twentieth, might have been all 
that could be desired. But it never was rejxiated. The next church 
was by a different architect, in a different style. The principle died 
with its author, as is the case with most modern designs ; and all, 
coiisetiuently, fail in producing the effect that might easily have been 
attained bv a more persistent svstem. 

The only Renaissance church of any arcliitectural pretensions that 
Vienna can lx)ast of is that of San 
Carlo Borromeo, built by Charles 
VI., in 1710, from designs by 
Johann Fischer,^ the most cele- 
brated aR'hitect of his day. The 
nave is covereil by a dome, ellip- 
tical in j>lan (75 by 110 ft. ?), and, 
conse<iuently, of most disagreeable 
and ever-varving outline ex- 
ternally, with two short transepts 
and a verv long narrow choir. 
The fayade is disproportionately 
wide, terminating in two towers, 
and with a portico of Corinthian 
pillai^s, on each side of which are two 
tall Doric columns, covered with 
bas-reliefs winding sj)irally round 
them, likf those of Trajan's Column 
at Rome. These represent scenes 

in the life of Carlo Borromeo, with all the incongruity of modern 
costume adapte<l to Classical design. Altogether, it is a strange 
conghmieration of partes, and, l)eing prhiciimlly in badly moulded 
stucco, the effect Ls neither tasteful nor imposing. 

Even this chui-ch is l)etter, however, than the Hof-Kirche at 
Dresden, conunenced in the year 17i^7, from designs by Claveri, and 
which, notwithstanding its dimensions and its situation — which is 
unrivalled — is as unsatisfactory a church as can well be imagined. 

224. Plan uf the Chnrch of San Carlo Borromeo. 
Scale (luubtful. 

» Born 1650 ; dio.l 1724. 



Bad aa this is even, it is better than the starved, po\Tr[y-strifkeii, 
stucco erection, dignified by the name of cathedral, at HltUji, which 
was built in the year IT5o, by an architect of the name of BoMinim. 

Ill the last-named city .there are two great churches, in tlie Geiis- 
d'aniiGs Platz, of the most commonplace architecture ; so mean, that 
Frederick Ihe Oreat determined to beautify them; hut instead of 
rebuilding or redecoratiTig them, he left the churc-hea in their original 
ugliness, and added a great mass of masorirj' in front of each. This 
consists of a Bi|uare block, with a handsome Corinthian ]>ortieo — in 
stucco of course — on three of its faces, with two stori-ys of windows 
under the iwrticoes ; over this is aii attic, and in the centre of eacli a 

tall dome, suri-onnded hy a peristyle of columns. The outline of these 
domes is as graceful as any that liave been erected of their class ; and 
owing to then.' Iiciiiii no constructive flifliculties. they grow pi wi singly 
out of the musses Iwlow : so that altogether, though they are not real 
domes, they are deserving of eoiisideiuhle praise ; but K'ing meiv slumis, 
however, and executed in plaster, they lose niiich of ilic ■liL'iiity to 
which they might otheraise attain. The design, loo. of ihe iiloi'ks 
on which they stand is by no means ungraceful, and if their aiva 
had been added to tlie chuivhes. might have been excusi-il ; Init, 
whatever their oriL'inal destination, tiiev are now mean auil <lilii]H- 
dute<l R-sidentes, and mere screens in so far at least as the elnni'ij-.- ur' 


A Ix'ttcr class of churches are such as the Dom at Salzburg, built 
by Holario, iu 1614, the cathedral at Munich, the church at Molk, 
and many more. These and others are built on the Italian plan — 
small copies of St. Peter's — with a dome in the centre, on the inter- 
section of the nave and transept, and generally two western towers. 
They ai*e neither so elegant in design as their Italian prototypes, nor, 
from their Ixnug generally in stucco, have they the same redeeming 
quality of richness of material. But they are Catholic churches of a 
well-nudei-stood type and ordinance, and, if they do not call forth much 
admiration, they do not offend by incongruity, or vain attempts to 
show off the ingenuity of the architect who designed them. None of 
them, ln:)wever, present any distinguishing features not to be found on 
the other side of the Alps, and they hardly, therefore, deserve a place 
in a chuptei' devoted to German Architecture. 


The Cfcrmans were not more successful in their attempts at 
Secular Architecture during the [Xiriod of the Renaissance than in 
their Ecclesiastical buildings. The architect wanders in vain through 
the capitals of (Jermauy in Iiojkjs of iiuding something either so 
original ui* so grand that it should dwell uix)n the memory, even if 
it does not siitisfy the rules of taste. 

The Ijest known and the most picturcscpie example is certainly the 
Castle at Heidelberg, though it perhajw owes more to its situation, to 
its associations, and' to its present state of ruin for its interest, than to 
its merits as an architectural production. The first an^liitectural part 
was eniriiifted, in 1556, on the older feudal buildings, and is a pleasing 
specimen of the style we should call Elizabethan in England ; but the 
mast admired is the Fredericks Ban, built in 1(>()7. It is a rich but 
overloaded sixjcimen of the style which i)re vailed in France in the 
reign of Henri IV. Situated in a courtyard as this is, we am forgive 
a considerable amount of over-ornamentation ; but, even then, the 
effec^t ja'odnced is by no means espial to the amount of labour Ix^stowed 
ujK)n it : and with ever}"^ allowance for divergence of taste, there is an 
amount and style of carving here which might l)e appropriate in 
cabinet-work, but certainly is iua]>propriate and offensive in anytlung 
more monumental. 

At Coloirne there is a pleasing i>cm;h added to the old Rathhaus, 
in 1571, and, though so late in date, the arches are slightly pointed, 
notwithstanding their being placed between Classical pillars, and 
the ronf is groined after a tolerably pure Gothic type. Though 
small, there is more thought l>estowed on it* <lesign than may be 
found iu manv bnildinijs of verv much lari^er dimensions ; and this, 
combined with a considerable degree of elegance, hiis resulted in 


From A PhfllogriLpb. 

prodociug the most pleaaiufr piece of Architecture that Oermany 
can boast of duriuj: these thnu centuries. It is tnie tbe Citier 
here employed is it mere oruuuieut, hut it docs not jiretuiid to l)e 
anything else. The real constmctive work is seen to l>e done by 
tlie arches behind it ; and greut {mins arc takeu to mitke it iijijiear 
that the pilkrs and tlicir uct-oni[KLniinent8 are added not only to 
give richness to the desijcn, but also to call back the menioi-ies of 
Classical Art most approjiriate iu the Ciipitiii of the great C'olouia 
of the Romans. 

The most original, and perhaps also the most picturesiiiic, btiilding 
iu Germany of this u^e, is the Zwlnpi-r Palnce at Dresden, eonniieiiced, 
in 1711, by Augustus II. Unfortunately it is only a fnigiiieiit— the 
forecourt to a jiidace which HouUi have been of wurulcrfnl .s]ikndiiur 
had it ever been eonipleted, thouijii the taste in which it "ii.s dcsi^rned 
may have l>eeii uvirv j.rovocative of Uuighter than of fetjlinpi of 
rcs]iect. Iu a coiirlyarii certain vagr.rius are admissible ; but in no 
iiijc, and in no place in Enmiie,' has so gr<itesi|ue a stvie iieen 

' The thing uioat likv it in ptTliupii the Kui^r liaf-h at Luikiiow 


carried into execution as here. It is an esaggeiatiou of the Riii;oeo 
style of Louis XV., such as in Fraueu was only applied in iritenial 
decoration, and employed in this ]>iilace more uxtra\agautly iliau ever 
dreamt of by any French architect. It eould only have Ijw-ji applied 
to exteruiil architecture !>y the kin^ who wasted their treasures ou 
the toys of the Griirie ilewoll*. 

lu singular contrast to this, the same Elector built the Jaimiiese 
Palace as a country residence— in the Cierman sense of the term — 
witliin a guiLshot of the Zwinger, It is a scjiiare block of hnildings, 
divided on each face into five conijwrtments, each three windows in 
width. The l>iisenient is nisticated ; the two n])i>er storeys iiilni'ned 
with, and included in, one range of jiihisters. The roof is pleasiuL'ly 
broken into masses, and Wing covered with copijer, which is now 
of a bright gR'en colour, the effect of the whole is iiecuiiar hut 
pleasing — [jcrhaps as nnicli so lis any palace in fiermany : tliongh 
this arises not from any remarkable l)eaHty or originality it may 
possess, but simply Ijecause it is a design, and U-canse there ai-e no 



uffuti^ivf (.-xtravaganccs aix>ut it, or auy attempt to make it appear 
otliLT tliari it ix. 

The -Suliloss at Berlin ought to be an iuterestin}: building, inas- 
much as it contains spccimeus uf the work of each succeeding elector 
or kiu^' siiicf Pnissia first emei^ed from obeciirity to the present 
day ; mid its dimen- 
sions are sntL that it 
must have a certain 
dignity in spite of 
auy faults of design. 
It measures dt)5 ft. 
east and west, by 385 
ft. ncirth and south ; 
the exterior being 
nearly uniform in 
style — having been 
princilwillj erected 
1 let ween the yeare 
Icai) and ITiii — and 
is four kdd storeys 
ill heiglit. Internally 
the mass Is divided 
into twii courts by a block of the earlier palace, which apparently 
it was intended to remove, tliongh, were it rebuilt, its Itting retained 
would irive mure effe<;t to the interior. 

It limy also be added that there is no very striking instance of 
liad tiiste ill the H-lmk- design ; still, Mitli all this, it is far fmni lieiiig 
satisfaet.^y. The material is brick mid stiic.-u— the latter nut always 
ill iviuiir. The Miiidinviiressingsure cmii-se and vulgar. Pillars, 
re iiseil, aif nien-ly ornuiiieiits stuck on high bnseiiieiits, and 
lUlogether. but fnr its iikhs, few would pause to ini|iiii-e its desti- 
nation. There is not in any [lart. or in any of its details, evidence 
of that elc;:aiice or retiiiemeiit wliich is !he lirst and most iiidis- 
lieiisiiblc i-ei|iiis!le in ihc ai-chitecture •<( a king's ivalaee : a look 
(.f ciKii-sciiess, almost of viilgnrity, ]>rcvades the wlide. and this is 
heigliteiied by the uc.|>eiiriiiiee of neglect and dirt "iiich is every- 

[»r«Bd«i. Fn>iD a Photognpb. 





iiilt the San V-.iHn IS<n 

supjuised by tlie 
IS iif tlic liui^ in 
n\n the designs of 
neo (WiKsleiit Xo. 

mall scale. 

It i 

in pla.sicr, nf enurse : and having n'ceiitlv lie 
cial .if ivliite and yelh.w washes, and the Ve 
tile briglilest grei'ii, its elTert is us gay as the 



etiaii liliinis jwinted of 
lovermneiit ihnise of a 


West Indian Colony, but by no means admirable as a specimen of 
ArcLitcctiiral Art. 

The New Palace built by Frederick the Great at Potsdam is 
superior to Sclionbrunn oB an architectural object, though aiuicthinK 
in tiie same style, and more to be admired for its dimensions than the 
art displayed iti its design or adornment. 

Germany is singularly deficient, as might be expw^ed, during the 
Benaissaucc period, in monumental trophius, such us trium]>bHl iirchi-s, 
columns, &c. ; the only really important example Iteing in Bi-andcn- 
burg Thor, at the end of the Linden, at licriin. This very iiawoivly 
escaped Ijcing a rt'idly tine building, and, considering its o^k (it ivas 

erected iietween 17K-1 and 171'2), it is one of the very Insit [■epnuhic- 
tious of (Irwk Art that bad tlien been erected. It consists uf two 
Hinges i)f six Doric columns, joined in the direction (jf their depth 
by a screen of wall, wliich ivius necessary for the attachment of ihe 
leaves of the gates which fold back against them ; and above t!ie 
coloiuKulc is a (|uadriga, lieariug a tijEurc of Victory. 

It was not, ]iei'ha(«, a very legitimate use of an Order to employ 
it whci-e gates were necessary, which the colniiiiis vn\y serve to mask, 
and the details uf the Order arc not sucli as to satisfy the critical eyes 
of the present day ; hut there is a largeness and a grandeur about the 
whole design which in a great measure redeem these faults, and. 


Uikiiig it all in all, except the Arc de TEtoile at Paris, it would be 
difficult to tind any modem triumphal gateway in Europe which could 
bear a fair ojmparison with this. 

At Berlin there are sevenil buildings, such as the Arsenal, the 
Public LiVjrarv. the University, Ac., on which tourists have been 
a>ntent to lavish their commendations for want of something to 
varv the mi»iK>tonv of blame that runs through all that can Ije said 
of the (lernian Architecture of this age. Rut none of these are 
iHi'youil the level of the merest metlitx:rity, and there does not appear 
to W a single municii^al or administrative building either at Vienna, 
Dresilen, ^funich, or any of the minor capiuils, which is worthy of 
commemoration as an architectural object. 

During the three centuries of the Renaissance perioti, the German 
nobles built no city ^^ilaces to lie comjiared in any way with those 
which adinii every town in Italy, nor one single country Residence that 
can match in grandeur the country seats that are found in every county 
in England. Fnmi the great high-n:»ads a Ixirrack-like residence is 
occasional! V dis<.M:)veretl at the end of an avenue of stunted trees : but 
it would K* as great a mwkery to c;)ll it an object of An^hitecture, as 
til diirnifv its entouraire bv I'allini: it a park. 

Xi»thing. in fact, can well l>e nu»re unsatisfactory and less interesting 
than the hist or}' of German Aivbittrture during the Reuaissjinc^ jieriod. 
It was nni that thev were afflicted bv a hankering after Classicalitv, or 
any «»ther f«»mi of Art ; or were st-izeil with that mania for jx^rticoes 
by which so many of our public and j^rivate Iniildings have lH?en dis- 
tiiruivil. It wivs simi>ly indiffeivnce. After the last eclux^ of the 
Middle Ages had ceased to vibrate, men fonrot the line arts, and were 
content with any form of building which suiteil l»est the utiliuirian 
puqxtses to which it was to l»e ap]>lie<i — and theiv the matter rested. 
Thev have now awakeneil from this trance, and are enen:etii*allv bent 
on achie\ing success in archittrtural design. The iinjuiry how far 
I he result has answereil to the endeavour forms the subject of the 
>acceeding chajiter. 




Although it is ficarcely probable that Gonnany could long have 
reniaiued uninfluenced by the demand for a hijrher class of Art which 
spread throughout Euro}>e after the termination of the jrreat war which 
arose out of the cata8troi)he of the French Revolution, still great 
credit is due to King Louis of Bavaria as l)eing the first to give 
practi(,*al effect to the call, and it was his example that stimulated the 
other States to exertion in the good cause. 

When a voun*^ man, residinir at Rome, as Crown Prince of 
Bavaria, Louis seems to have l>een struck with admiration for the 
great works he saw there, and from their contemplation to have 
imbil)ed a love of Art, which led him to resolve that when he came to 
the thrcme he would devote his energies to the restoration of German 
Art, and make his capital the central |K)int of tlie great movement he 
was cc>ntem})lating. Earnestly and |>erseveringly he worked towards 
this end during the whole of his reign : and if the result has not Ijeen 
so satisfactory as nn'ght Ik.* wished, it has not l)een owing either to 
want of means or of encouragement im the part oi the king, but to the 
system on which he pR>cee<led, either from inclination, or from the 
character of the agents he was forced to em}>loy in carrying out his 

The niliniT idea of the Munich school of Architecture seems to have 
been to re})nxluce as nearly as possible in facsimile ever}' building 
that was great or jKlminible in any clime, or at any previous period of 
history, wholly irresi)ective either of its use or of the lo(;ahty it was 
destined to occupy in the new capital. Whatever the king had admired 
abnjjid his architwts were ordered t^) repnxhice at home. The conse- 
(juence is that ^lunicli is little more than an ill-arranged museum of 
dried specimens of foreign styles, frequently on a smaller scale, and 
generally in plaster, but reproducing with more or less fidelity build- 
ings of all ages and styles, though in nine cases out of ten designed for 
other jmrposes, and carried out in different materials. 

Had the king on the other hand, insisted that his architects should 


copy nothing, but must produce buildings original in design, and 
lulapted to tho climate of Germany and the usages of the nineteenth 
century, he luwl i^ in his jK>\ver to be the founder of a school of Art 
which would have rendereil his name illustrious in all future ages. 
I^roliably such • a conception was as much l)eyond the calibre of the 
royal jmtron's mind as it might have exceeded the talent of his 
artists to execute it. Unfortunately, the reproduction of the Par- 
thenon or the I*itti Palace enabled flatterers to suggest that he had 
eiiualle<l Pericles i>r the Medici ; and it was not thought necessary to 
hint that the printer, who multij)lies the work of a great ix)et, ueeil not 
ne(!essarily iKi as great as the author of the first conception. To the 
an'hitects it was Elysium ; — they had only to measua* and repeat : 
authority wmctioned all blunders and relieved the artist from all 

The exi>eriment was so novel, at least in ^lennany, that it was at 
first hailed with enthusiasm : but, aft<.T this luul sul)sided, the taste of 
the nation re(;oiled from the total want of thought dis])layed in the 
buildings at Munich, and their common sense revolted at their want 
of iwhii>tation to the cinuimstaiices in whieh they are placed. The 
result may eventually prove fortunate for the development of the art 
of Architecture. The king i)la(M;d Ufore his countrymen siK'cimcns of 
all scluM»lrt an<l all styles ; and the coiiteinplati(jn of these may arouse 
the (lerman nn'n<l to emulate their iK'anties iiistwul of servilely copying 
their details. I>nt meanwhile the mind of the student is jnizzled by 
the variety of examples submitted for his admiration. Is it the 
Walhalla or tin* Aiie-Kin'he he is to adminr ? — the Konigsbau or the 
Wittellwicher Palact; ? To whic'h end of the Ludwig Strasse is he to 
l«M>k for his model of an an;li r It may prove to Ik.* a useful school ; 
but it is nt»w oidv a chaon, and no master's hand exists to L^ui<le the 
stuilent's nn'nd throui^h the tortuous mazes of the uniiitellectual 
labyrinth in which he finds himself involved. It is difiicult to i machine 
in what dinn-tion the tide may ultimately turn. If the (leruian mind 
is cajMible of originality in Art, it ought to lie for good. They have 
copied everything, and exhausted themselves with imitations f/fl 
nnusHini. It remains to Ik* stjen whether thev <!an now create anvthiuff 
wfnthv of a(hnimtion. 

Ecclesiastical. — Mlnich. 

One of the earlier churches undertaken ])v the late kini: was that 
of St. Ludwig, in thtj street of the same name. It wj»s desie'iied by 
Oiirtner, in the so-called Hvzantine stvle. Exteniallv the bnildinir 
is fiat, and has little to retrommend it, except some very tastefully 
execnte<l ornam(;nts in stucco. The two towers that flank it are 
plactMl so far ajvjirt as s<;an^ely to grou]) with the rest of the design. 


and are iu themselves as lean and as ungraceful conceptions as any 
that have been perpetrated during this century. Internally, the 
fresooes which cover its walls redeem its architectural defects, and are 
in fact the only excuse for the employment of a style so little tractable 
fis this is. If a law were in existence, either artistic or statutory, that 
frescoes shall only be used in conjunction with this style, no one of 
course would object to its employment. But it is difficult to discover 
any reason why a building in any other style should not be so designed 
as to admit of painted decorations lx?ing introduced, so as to cover 
every foot of space from the floor to the roof ridge ; and if it is so, the 
idea that Bvzantine chiu'ches only should be so decorated can only be 
considered as one of those self-imjx)sed trammels so characteristic of 
the modem school of Art. In fact, tlie art of forging fetters to be 
worn for display seems the great discovery of the Revival ; and, 
though a knowledge of the means by which this is done is necessary 
to understand the arts of other countries also, its trammels are nowhere 
80 prominent and so universally adopted as in Munich. 

The Aue-Kirche, which was proceeding simultaneously with the 
Ludwig-Kirche, is another prominent example of the same system. It 
is in the late attenuated (jerman Gothic style, without aisles or break 
of any sort externally ; and, as an architectural design, very little t(> 
he admired ; but its painted windows, like St. Ludwig's frescoes, are 
supposed to redeem its other defects. It need hardly be added that, 
if the one is right the other must Ixi wrong ; two diametrically opposed 
modes of decorating and building, to \)e ased in the same age for the 
same purix)ses, can hardly lx)th l)e eijually good ; and in these two 
instances, at all events, neither can be considered successful from an 
architectural pcjint of view. 

Far more successful than either of these is the Basilica, erected 
under the superintendence of Ziebland ; which, as a whole, is perhaps 
one uf the most successful of modern imitative churches. Its dimen- 
sions are considerable, l)eing 285 ft. in length, with a width of 
11-4 ft. ; with the apse, narthex, &c., covering nearly 4o,()0() ft. Ex- 
ternally, the simplicity of the style has j^revented any offence against 
taste being conmiitted, and the portico is a simple arcaded porch, in 
good proportion with the rest, and suggestive of the interior. Inter- 
nally the arrangement is that, on a smaller scale, of the Basilicas of 
the old St. Paul's, or St. Peter's at Rome : — a nave 50 ft. wide, and 
two side aisles, divided from each other by sixty-four monolithic 
columns of grey marble, with white marble capitals, each of a different 
design, Ijiit all elegant, and all a])propriately modelled to l)ear the 
impost of an arch. The timbering of the open ro(>f is j^erhaps too 
light, and has a somewhat flimsy appearance. 

Except the pillars and their capitals, there is scarcely an architec- 
tural moulding or ornament throughout the interior. Every part 
VOL. ir. <^ 


is painted, iind dfpetidB on jiaintinij for its effect; uiid tliou^'li the 
resall is Batisfactory and Ix-mutifnl, it might fiisily have bteii lx.-tler. 
The old hiisilica liuildings had an excuse for oinittinu architei-iunil 
details. They borrowed their jiiliiirs from older edilices, mid had not 
art Bufficient to do anything; teyond liiiiliiing a plain ruliliie or 
brick wall over those piUarii, imd then tryinjr to hide its ]ioverty by 
gilding and [mint, Thoiigli the canons of the Jliinich school of Art 
would not allow auytliing but servile copyin;:, even of def«;ts, there 
can be no <loiibt but that an urchitectund arcliivolt from capital 
to capital, bolder siring-Cfiuraes, uud mouldin^'s round the wiruiows, 
would not oidy have ini])ro\'ed the interior immensely, but would have 
aided the effect of the painted decorations, and jr'^'*^" vahie to the 
frescoes, nliich, from want of framing, lose to u tronslderuble extent tbe 
effect thev might other«ise have prodnced. As these tbings, however, 
did not exist in the original, it is not fair to blame the aix'liitect for 
Dot introducing them in tbe co;iy. The task projKised to him was to 
reprodnee u basilica of the tiftli i.-entury, and the standard by which it 
must lie judged is lio« far, in the ninete<.'iith century, he has ft'pro- 
duced the ai-ts of that juTiod of det^iy and degnidation. He could 
easily bave improved on his motkl, but tliut wjis forbidden. SucU 
being tbe case, it would l>e easy to \mih out other defects tli:in those 
above noteil ; but on tbe whole there Is pi-oliidily uo luodei'n cbnrcb 
more satisfactory, or wbieb, fivm tbe simplicity of its arningumeut 


and the completeness and elegance of its details, produces so solemn 
and so pleasing an effect. 

As al)ove pointed out,^ the architects who were entrusted with the 
rebuilding of St. Paul's outside the walls at Rome, did not consider 
themselves so bound bv precedent as Ziebland and his alxittore, though 
it would have lx?en more excusable in their case than in his. They 
.hid the timbering of their roof by a decorative ceiling, and introduced 
a bett<jr spacing and more ornate aiTangement of their clerestory than 
had existed in the old building ; but with all this they could not cure 
the defects inherent in this style of l)uilding churches. This class 
of BasiUcas is necessarily poor and mean-looking externally, from the 
want of towers or domes, to break the sky-line and give variety to 
the plan ; while, internally, they are monotonous and deficient in the 
perspective and light and shade which are the charm of almost all 
Gotliic buildings, and which are also frequently found in the domical 
churches of the Renaissance period. 


Is the Walhalla a church ? If not, it would be difficult to sav what 
it is. At all events, there seems to be no other class under which it 
can well l)e ranged. Externally, it has no merit but that of Ixjing an 
exact and literal copy of the Parthenon ; but situated on a lone hill on 
the banks of the Danul)e, surrounded bv the tall roofs of German vil- 
lages, and village spires, without one single object to suggest how it 
came there, it is the most singular piece of incongruity that Archit^- 
ture ever jxjrpetrated. Minena, descending in Cliea})6ide to sepirate 
two quarrelling cabmen, could hardly be more out of place. Internally, 
too, the strange mixture of German sagas with Grecian myths, and the 
clothing of Gennan traditions and German savages with the ex(|ui8ite 
poetry and gi*ace of Grecian Art, produces an effect so utterly false as 
to be painful. 

The architect, no doubt, saveii himself an enormous amount of 
trouble and of thought when he determined on reproducing literally 
a copy of the Parthenon ; and he also escaped an immense amount of 
responsibility by adopting so celebrated a design in all its integi'ity. 
It would have taken him years of patient study to produce anything 
original at all approaching it in merit ; and we know that neither 
Klenze nor any modern architect could possibly design anything so 
perfect. Notwithstanding all this, there is nothing in all the prin-. 
ciples of the art so certain as that any carefully elabonitijd design 
would have been better than this, if appropriat<i to the situation and 
the climate, and if it expressed truthfully and clciirly the objects for 

> Vide ante, p. 00 (Woodcut No. 45). 



Book V. 

whicli the building was ei^ectecl, as well as the feelings of the age in 
whidi it was executed.* Though Klenze only did what most of his 
brother architei?ts are doing, it was treason against the noble art he 
proffsses ; and his opix)i*t unities have l)een such that he is more to 
blame tlian most of his brethren for the present state of the art in this 

Fortunately the archit^xitural ammgement of the interior has some 
novelty, combineil with considerable appreciation of the elements of 
Grecian Art : and, putting aside all (juestion as to its appropriateness 

and all reference to the meaning of its decora- 
tions, it reproduces not unworthily the effect of 
such a h:dl as might have existed in Greece in 
the da}-s of her j>rinie. Had Klenze l)een content 
ti) i'ej)r()(luce the interior of the Parthenon with 
the same servility as he did the exterior, he 
would have lost a gi^eat op|)ortunity of showing 
how easily'the details of Givek Ai'chitectuiv lend 
themselves to modern pui7X)ses, when applied 
with a sufficient amount of care and thought. 
The liJill, whiirh is r»o ft. wide by loO in length, 
is divided into three nearly s(juare compartments 
by projwting piei's. The light is pleasingly 
iiitrmluced in sufficient (piantities through the 
roof, the sculpture well disjKised, and altogether 
it mav be consideivd as one of the most elegant 
as well as one of the richest halls which have 
been produced in this century. Its great and 
only worthy rival is St. George's Hall, LiveriK)ol, — the two forming 
curious illustrations of the adaptability of Grecinn or Roman Aix^hi- 
tecture to our modern purj)oses. 

The Ruhmes-halle is a IxHter attemj^t at a}>plying the detail of 
piure Greek Architecture to modem monumental pur|X)Ses. Heix^ the 
statue is meant to be everything ; and the architecture not oidy 
allows it to l>e so, but aids the effect bv tvintr, as it were, the statue 
to the hill-side, and suggesthig a ivason for its l)eing thei*e, while the 
building is kept so low and subordinate as mther to aid the colossal 
effect of the statue than to interfere with it. So far, therefore, as 
the (Jrecian principle of design was thought indis|K'nsable for the 
sculptuix*, the application of the GRrian l)oric Order was not only 
legitimate l>ut api>ropriate, and has Xkvu elTected with more skill and 

231. I'lan ff Uallia)l4. 
Scale luu feet tu 1 inch. 

' We wiUin*;!}' pay 5,0()0/. for an SiH.zalizin of Raplmi'l for iiOL; vtt the 
original wurk by llolmun Ilnnt, whil».' jtieturo i:s tjnite Uh nppropriute t<» Loiulon 
wo can liuY an oxcoHi^ut cojr)' nf the ns to Milati. 


ori;^iiiality iu this iiwtaiiw than is to Iw foumi in iiiiy otIicT lukptaiioii 
uf it ill Munich. 

SKtl"l..\U. — JIlNKIl. 

The (Jlyjitottick is one of the t;iirli:;st us it is (>n<: of the Ih.-si. of 
Klciize's Miniicli di^i^ns. As in tlie liiihiiiw-hEilk', ilicri' is a rertuin 
amonnt of iip]ii'oiiriittu(H3W in a Cla^'sifal, ttinilowless imililin;; liulni: 
erwlwl to contain aiiiaeut sirulptiirwi, or niodfm uxiiniiiles exvcnlLii on 
thu siunu {irin(;i])luB : iiml ItotJi i-xtmially -.inil internally this jrallery 
is siniriiliiriy well airanfrud for tlie jjuipose to whicli it \ias to be 

OlrpMhek, Mnntcli. From • riwli«ri| 



Book V. 


applied. Having Ixjeii erected before any buildings existed in its 
neighbourhood, the archit<xjt does not seem to have foreseen that it 
would ai>[)ear low when l)rought into competition with taUer edifices ; . 

and this defect is further increased 
by the size of the i)ortico : wliich, 
though elegant and well-designed 
in itself, is too large for the struc- 
ture to which it is attached. The 
Exhibition building, which forms 
the })endant to the Gly})tothek, on 
the opposite side of the square, 
avoids these defects by being placed 
on a lofty stylobate, and its portico 
api>roached by a handsome flight of 
stejvs. It thus gains considerably 
in dignity, though it is at the ex- 
pense of its older and less preten- 
tious ueighl>our. 

Internally, the Glyptothek is 
better arranged and better Hghted 
than any other sculpture-gallery in 
Europe ; ^ and although the orna- 
ments on the roof may Ije open to 
the reproach of heaviness, they were 
the fruit (»f tlie first attempt to 
employ (Iret'ian details in this man- 
ner, and they are always elegant 
and a}>})ro[)riate : and with a better 
treatment as to colour and gilding, 
these defects might l)e made much 
less ]»rominent. 

The Pinacotliek, which was 
erected ai)Out the same time bv the 
same architect, is in some respects 
su|)erior to the Olyptothek. Both 
externallv and internallv the design 
is that of a picture-gallery, and 
so clearly ex])ressed that it is im- 
possil>le to mistake it for anything 
else. The materials, too — 1 u'ick with 
stone dressings — are left to tell their own tale, and add to the air of 

* Tlio mode in which the Eginitan , a nation \vhich cannot erect a more 
marbles are liglitod and scon h«re, goes suitable building for this puri^se than 
far to obviate even an Englishman's the British Museum. 
regret that they did not fall to the h)t of | 


Plan of Plnaw^thek, Munich. 
Scale 100 feet to 1 inch. 

Chap. 1L 



truthfulness which pervadea the whole building. The worst feature 
of the design is the glazed arcnde extending the whole len^h of the 
front on the principal storey. It is quite true that there are similar 
arcades in the Vatican, which it has been found necessary subsequently 
to glaze in order to (irotect their frescoes from the atmos|>heric in-' 
fluences : but it is a singular histaiicc of the Chinese habit of mind 
of iliniich architects, that they should build a glazed arcade in imita- 
tion of those at Rome, wliich have Iieen so perverted from their original 
purpose. One fourth or one sixth of the window-space would have 
been more than sufficient for this corridor ; and, architecturally, the 
back of the building is fur more sutisfactori' than the front, though 
there are two storeys of common place windows under the Order that 
rei)resi.-nts this pretentions arcade in the fnmt. They, however, are 
useful, and consequently easily excused ; ivheiVius the corridor is bo 

h"i iu summer, and so cold in winLer, that it cannot Ik used as an 
apjiroiich to the cileries ; und at all seiL-ffuis si) exi>wed to atmoRpheric 
changes that it is impossible to preserve the frescoes with wliich its 
walls aiii adorned. In other res|M.rtB the aiTan;_'enicnt of the gallery 
is the lUiwt iK.Tfect yet devised for Its ]niq)osi's. Nothing can be finer 
than the range of great galleries down the i-entre for large pictures, of 
smaller cabiuets on one side, und (if properly designed) of a corridor 
of approach on the other. It would nei'crtheless have been better if 
the cutniuce huf! been in llic centime of the pririei|Kd fnmt, and the 
atairc'use projected out behind : but the ol)je<.^t evidently was to use 
the corridor, though th;it iidvuriLuge has been lost in conseijueTLce of the 
way in ivliirh the design was ciiiTied out. 

Heliind this g.illery a new ime has recently been erected, which 
ceitainly is original, inasmuch as it is unlike any building that ever 



was erected before, aud, it is to be hopud, ever will be erected here- 
after ; but it loses the advaiit^e of even this merit by preteiidiug to 
be in the Bjzaiitiue stj'le, though adoriiod extcmalij with frcst^oes the 
subjects aiid design of which most unmistakably belong to the pi'esent 
hoar. But, in addition to tliese defects, the building is unjtlcasing 
in fonn, and so deficient iu light and shade as to lie positii'ely dis- 

The Royal Palace at filuuicli is by no meaiis bo successful an iittemjit 
as these last-named buildings. The fumade towards the Theater Plata 
ia only a bad copy, on a reduced saile, of the Palazzo Pitti at Florence ; 
and 08 if it ivere not degradation enough to see its bold nistication 
repeated iu bad stucco, the effect is further dettriomted by an increase 
in the relative size and frei]nency of the ai>ertua's, and the incrotluc- 
tion of a very lean range of pilasters in the upjier storeys, and a conse- 
quent diminution of tiie projections as a compromise l>etween the msti- 
cations und the Ortler. The garden front has less pretension, and is 

11 It n ii ii li li H ii ii il ti ii 

con8ei|ueritIy leas open to criticism ; but at best it is scari-clr superior 
to a stuccoed teri-ace in the Regent's Park, and executed in the same 
material, the only striking difference being that the loggia in tlie centre 
is painted in fresco internally, but, as there is no colour elsowliere, it 
has more the effect of a spot than a part of one great design. 

Till ver)' recently the Ludwlg Strasse was the pride of llunicb. 
Gartner's great buildings, the Libnvrj-, the University, the Blind 
School, Klenze's War OtBue, and the Palace of the Priiic'c of Lichten- 
Btein, wyre thought to be the tie filiis ultra of Architecture. It is now 
admitted that, notwithstanding a certain elegance of detail, there Ls a 
painful monotony in the endless repetition of similar small o[K-ning3 
in (Jartner's buildings, and a flatness of surface not redeemt-d by a 
macbicolatcd coniice : for it is so small as to be altsurd if intended to 
represent a defensi-.e espedieiit, and not sufficient to afford shadow to 
such monotonous facades. Xor is the dull monotony of the street nmeh 
reheved by the introduction of a Roman triumphal arebn-ay at one end. 


far too small to oloec sach a vista, or a shadowless repetition of the 
Loggia dei Lanzi at the other. 

The good people of Munich themselves seem aware of the mistake 
that has been made in the design of the Ludwig Strasse, inasmuch as, 
since then, they have erected a new street, on nearly the same scale, at 
right angles to this, and extending from the Palace to the river. In- 
stead, however, of the grand simplicity of its rival, the Maximilian 
Strasse is of the gayest type of modern Gothic, if the term Gothic can 
be applied to a style that is like nothing that ever existed in the 
Middle Ages ; but it is assumed to acquire this rank from having 
poiiiU'd ojxjnings, wooden mull ions, and contort<;d mouldings, with an 
occasional trefoil or quatrefoil of the \VitteU)acher Palace pattern. 
Now that it is finished it may fairly Ikj pronounced to be the flimsiest 
and most unsatisfactory attempt that has yet Ix'en made to reproduce 
the style of a bygone age. The Railway Station, on the other hand, 
may l>e considered as a successful attempt to adapt the brick architec- 
ture of mediivval Italy to modern uses. The general design is very 
j)leiising, and the details elegant ; and if it were not that the style is 
assumed to prohibit cornices and copings, the whole might be con- 
sidered a success ; l)ut it wants eyebrows, and there is a weakness 
arising from want of shadow which reduces it to a ver}' low grade in 
the scale of architectural effects. 

On the whole, the survey of the Revival of Ai-chitectui-e, as seen at 
Munich, from the accession of Ludwig I. to the present day, is by no 
means encouraging. Immense sums have Ix^en lavished with the very 
best and highest motives — men of undoubted talent have l)een em- 
ployed, not only as architects, but as sculptors and piinters, to assist 
in completing what the aixjliitect designed; but with all this, not one 
perfectly satisfactory building has been produced, and the general 
result mav Ix^ considered as an acknowledired failure, inasmuch as 
the jn'inciples on which the school of Ludwig was based were entirely 
ignored by that of ^laxiniilian, and the aitists of the present day are 
already tishamed, and ought to Ik?, of what was done ten or twenty 
yeiirs airo. It is not clear whether it is the fault of the artists or their 
employei's, l>ut both are hamj)ere(l and weighed down by the false idea 
that mere memory can ever supply the place of thought in the creation 
or production of works of Art. 


Althouirh the citv of l>erlin has not been remmlelled to anvthing 
like the Simie extent as ^lunieh, and the architectunil nioNcment there 
has not Kt'ii heralded to the woi'ld with the same amount of self- 
landation which the inhabitants of the southern capital have indulged 
in, still the northern i^oi^le seem on the whole to have been fully as 



successful, if not more so, in the architects that have been emploved on 
their j;reat bnildiugs. The revival also seems to be more real, and 
to have descended <lee(K;r, inasmuch as many of the modem lionses in 
Berlin are models of elegance and good taste, ivhile the private archi- 
tecture of AIniiich is commonplace to a degree astonishing in a citv of 
such ]>ruteusions. 

The Prussians, however, are not a church -building race : and ihey 
are very far from being successful in the few attempts they have made. 
One of the most pruminent examples in Berlin is the Werder-Kirche 

near the Pjihice, a brick li 
internally and exti'rrially 
class and age. Ic muMt, 
designed it, mis es.-icnti 
admired the Oothic style 
His own original design for tb 

ilding in the so-called Ootliic style, but lioth 
1 litile to lie admired as any stnictniv of its 
liowever, Iw mentioned that, S(-liinke!. who 
ly a Classical ai-cliitei't, and understood or 
ibout as nmcli as onr Sir Christopher Wren. 
■bnn.-h wius ClasBie, and a far more 

beautiful and apjiropriate composition than the one which tiie then 
nascent sentimental ism of the Rominiic school forced upon him. Thia 


is the more to be regretted for his sake, as his greatest executed design 
in his favourite style is the Nicholai Church at Potsdam, and, whether 
from his fault, or that of those ^ho employed him, cannot be considered 
successful as an architectural composition. 

Externally the church consists of a nearly cubicixl block l'2i) ft. 
square in plan, by 87 in height, with a Corinthian portico attached to 
one side, far too small for its position, and with a great dome placed 
ou the top, as much too large for the other proix)rtioiis of the church. 
Internally the proportions are even woi'se, for it is practically a room 
105 ft. square, and 102 in height I — a blunder which all the elegances 
of detail, which Schinkel knew so well how to employ, can neither 
render tolerable nor even |>alliate in any degree. The tnith seems to 
Ixi that the Germans have had very little ex}>erience in church-building 
of late years, and have no settled canons to guide them, while it in- 
quires a man of no small genius or ex})erience to foresee wiiat the exact 
effect of his building will l)e when executed, though on the drawing- 
board it may seem to fulfil all the conditions of the problem.^ 

Although Berlin cannot lx)ast of anv church so lx*autiful i\s 
Ziebland's basilica, or so complete a forgery as the Walhalla, her 
Museum is a more perfect and more splendid building than any of the 
cognate exami)les at ]\Iunich. The portico consists of eighteen Tonic 
columns l)etween two anta?, extending in width to 27r> ft., and in 
height, from the ground to the top of the cornice, it jneasures 04 ft. 
It has also the very unusual advantage of having no windows in its 
shade, but an open recessed staircase in the centre, sutHcieTit to give 
meaning to the whole ; and now that the internal wall is painted 
with frescoes — though these in themselves are by no means com- 
mendable — it has more meaninir and fewer solecisms than anv other 
portico of the siime extent which has l)een erected in modern Euroi)e. 
The great defect is, ])erhaps, that it is not high enouirh for its 
situation. The space l)efore it is large, and some of the buildings 
around it are high, while the s(|uare bkx^k which conceals the dome 
in the centre is not sufficiently im|K)rtant to give the requisite height 
and dignity to the building. It is also another proof of the extreme 
difficulty of adai)ting purely Classical Architecture to modern pur- 
poses, that most of the l)eiiuty and all the fitness of this l)cautiful 
portico disappear except when seen directly in front. The moment 
you view it in connection with the flanks, you perceive that it is only 
a mask to a very commoni)lace laiilding, with three storeys of rather 
mean windows inserted in a stuccoed wall I 

* If tlie gCKxl people in Berlin carry out i in<l('e<l It has all the fuult^ of propor- 
tlie rebuilding of their e^ithetlnil accord- , lion of this cliurch, hut desiLMnd with u 
ing to the design which is understood to > stramrcness and inelegance of detail which 
have been accepted for tiiat purpose, the is very remarkable. 
result will be something very dreadful 


It JR difiiciiit to iindc-i¥Uii](l whv Scbiiikcl did not light his upper 
etoryv, eoiit«iuiug the picture galleries, from the roof. All luodera 
experience goes to 
prove that the pic- 
tures would have 
gained by this ar- 
miigement, and bj it 
the exterior of the 
building would cer- 
tniiily have been 
brouirht much more 
in harmony with its 

InttTiiJi'iIy the 
s(]iuiif.' form of the 
building ndiuittcd of 
vei7 little oppor- 
tunity for nrchitec- 
tund di^^i'liiy ; and 
the modi' in which 
the picture-gallery is 
criiwdeil with screens 
takfs it wholly out 
of tlif Ciite^ry of 
iirchittM-tnral de- 
Biirris, lint the whole 
is in ^'ikkI tiisle, and 
the ceiilnd ball with 
it? dome is n very 
noble Hud well-pro- 
portiiJiicd u[iartmeiit, 
in [lerfect banuouy 
with the portico, 
tlmujrh, like it, over- 


jio wen n^ 

L' ibe 


utiliuiriiin jmrt 
tbe building. 

Iiiimodiatuly in 
rear of this Museum 
aiiDlht-r hiis liecn re- 
cently erei ted by 
Staler, which. ihoiu;h 
making little or no 
pretensions to arc^hiioctunil display outside, is a far niori' Sitlisfuctory 
design us a whole than iL« more ambitious predecessor. In no [art is 

Chap. II. 



there any attempt to make it appear anjthiiig but what it really is — a 
three-Btoreyed building, galleriis for the accommodation of 
works of art ; but the whole is caiTicd out with ko much judgment, and 
the details are so elegant, that, with infinitely more convenience and 
probably less than half the relative cost, it is as jileasiug to liwk upon 
as .Schiiiitel's great creation. Its princijiul merit, huwtver, consists 
in its internal arrangement. The great staircase — now that its fres- 
coes and decorations are completed — is probably unmatched by auy 
similar apartment in any building or jialacc in Euro|)e, either for 
dimcusious or desigu. It leads to a series of apartments on each 
of the three floors, desigued with reference to the collection it was 
destined to contain, and the fR'scoes which adorn eacli room are 
e(]Ually in acconlance with its object. In fact, no modern iialace, 
much less any modern inusuiim, displays the same amouut of thought, 

or the same iiappy iiarmonj iif aiti-.tR design with utilitarian pir- 
pose, as this building does. A\itliout the introduction of a single 
detail that is not pleasing to coiitmiplite or which dots not idd to 
the l)eauty of tlie whole, everj ]>ait is dLcorattd to tiit utmir.t LXttnt 
consistent with the purjwjscs of tht "Museum and t\er) ornament is 
appropriate to the place where it ih fiimid 

Sext to that of the Mnseum Sthirikel s lust design in Berlin is the 
Theatre in the fiens-d'armcs I'latz (A\ oodent No 22 i) wbith mil 1« 
noticed further in the chapter on ThuitnN. 

Scbinkel an d 

« sad ax 

cc f n 

the facade h added o 

d rte<l des g o 

1 I niry 

uuder the L d Is 

8 u n p ort 


elegant and a a 

h ff n 


the little att 


km: h m 

which does not eiist bu 

ts rs d f c s al 


ext erne se e ty 


is neither in accordance with its purposes, nor in harmony with the 
older building to which, in spite of the repudiation of its style, it is 
unfortunately attached. 

The Guard-house on the opposite side of the street has been much 
and deservedly admired. It is an elegant, and, as far as the Classical 
style would admit, an appropriate building for its purpose — much 
more so than that erected by the same architect for the same purpose 
at Dresden. There is a massive 8im])licity about the Berlin example 
which sjKi'aks of resistance and security ; at Dresden, the building, 
though pleasing lx)th in proportions and detail, might be a casino, a 
villa, or anything. It beare no mark of its destination on its face. 

In all these, as in almost all his works, Schinkel adhered Uterally 
to the Revived Classical or Gothic styles as he understood them ; the 
only im}x)rtant occasion on which he departed from those principles 
and attem]>ted originality ])eing in the design for the Bauschule, or 
Building Academy, situated near the Palace at Berlin. The design of 
this edifice is extremely simple. It is exactly square in plan, mea- 
suring 150 ft. each way, and is 70 ft. in height throughout. The 
lower storey is devoted to shops ; the two next to the pur}X)ses of the 
institution : and above this is an attic in the roof, which latter is not, 
however, seen externally, as it 8l()]>es backwards to a courtyard in the 
centre. The ornamentation dei»ends wholly on the construction, con- 
sisting only of ])iers between the windows, string-courses marking 
the floors, a slight cornice, and the dressings of the windows and doors. 
All of these are elegant, and so far nothing can be more truthful or 
appro])riate, the whole being of brick, which is visible everywhere. 
Notwithstanding all this, the Bauschule cannot l)e considered as 
entirely successful, in conse(iuence of its architect not Uiking suffi- 
ciently into consideration the nature of the material he was about to 
employ in deciding on its general characteristics. Its sim]»le outline 
would have been adminibly suited to a P^lorentine or Roman pdace 
built of large blocks of stone, or to a granite edifice anywhere : but 
it was a mistake to adopt so severe an outline in an edifice to l)e 
constructed of such small materials as bricks. Had Schinkel l>rought 
forward the angles of his building and made them more solid in 
apiK-arance, he would have improved it to a great extent. This woidd 
have been easy, as much less window sj^ace is re(]uired at the angles, 
where the rooms can be lighted from two sides, while the accentuation 
of ^yhat is now the ^yeakest pirt would have given the building that 
monumental character ^yllich elsewhere is obtained from massiveness 
of material. Tliis would also have given vertically that light and 
shade which it is almost imix)ssible to obtain from horizontal pro- 
jections unless stone or \yood is employed. Though very nearly suc- 
cessful, this design fails in being quite so, because, though its details 
are ^x^rfectly api)roi)riate to the materials in which it is erected, its 


to aiurthtT fliiss : hu I lu.Ui iHrn in uivur.liiiiiT. it wuul-i Imvi; In-tii 
Scliiiikil's lN;st iH.Tr.>niiiiiiif. iiiul on.,- of ilic iiici>t siili-^fii'a.iiT stnu-Uircs 
in Itfrliii. Kvuii iis ii 1.:, ii ujiirks mi i'|nK.-ii in llii.' lui. vriwii u niuii 
ill r^tliiukdV i'fisiti'>ii daivil tn I'l'i'it liiivtliiii',' >i> iTJiriiiiii ;tinl sii frev 
fl-olll (_'liissi.-;il <.r i;ollii.- f.rliii;; iis this li.sii:!! .Trliiiiilv is. 

Tli.>iis;h tliLW Iniiiaiiiu's ;,iv iioi. it iiiiw !«■ i-nrifcssuil. faiilllfsw. 
tlity hiivt !ill a i-(.-i-tiiiri i|ii;il:l,v iif LTiiii'li'iir itml ]iiir|><is(.- iiIh.iu iliviii 
wliivli ii;iiikT.* llnrii iilwi-iini: ainl Mortliv nf iitltiitioii : imt hIh-iIilt it 
arisis fi'ciii iiiilivirliiiil r,i\.nr^- <,r a liLviiJciKr uf uistc. s.iiiic of tlie 
inorf ivcL'iiL i-iwtii)!i> nf Ik-rlin an- far ft<>iii Uiri;; sn siitisfaclni-y. Tlie 
privHti.' n-siiluiici- <>( t!i(.- laif Kiii^:. iiiult-r tlic l.iiiili'ii. now .iccuiiiwl l»y 
thf Cniuu I'riiicu aii<l ■j;ir It'.viil. is. lIh.iikIi "f P'wit, j.rJ- 
teiict, still ii vi-n- iimr ik'si^'u. A l..w liiL<u[in-iil, niwrit only for 
oflicea. siiiijMjrts a imrliro nf four l.'urintliiiiii f"liiiiiiis, ntwring two 
Btoreys of wimlows. mul tht-sf are rt'in-atcd as pikgt*.-rs all roiiiul the 


building. Over this is a very tall attic, overloaded with oriiauient, 
which is far from Iwiiig in good taste. The whole looks more like an 
English country-house of the early Georgian era tliau anything that 
ought to l)e erected in Berlin at the present day. 

The new Exchange, too, is very nmch of the same character. A 
commonplace luisement, rustiaiteil on one side, and with a range of 
diminutive Doric columns on the other, supjwrts a c<»n?iderable 
numl)er of Corinthian pillars on two faces, some detached, some stuck to 
the walls, some flattened into pilasters. There are two storeys of 
windows under these pillai*s, and an attic al)ove. The whu'e will 
be one of the most exi)ehsive and elaborately-ornamented buildings in 
the city, but the amount of thought disi)layed is very small indeed, 
and its design very commonplace and (|uestionable. 

If the Berlin architects, after so fair a start, are to sink to such 
mediocrity, it will be very sad indeed. But the state of private Archi- 
tecture gives great encouragement to the idea that Ix'tter things may 
be looked for. In no city of Euroi)e has the elegance of Classical Art 
been so successfully apj^licd to domestic edificos. In the now «|uarters 
of the city and the suburbs, especially about the Thienraiten and the 
Anhalt (iate, there are some specimens which it is really a pleasure 
to look upon. Seldom do wc find pillai*s or ])ilastei's running through 
two storevs, and still more rarelv do we 11 nd a cornice an v where but 
at the top of a building, which, of coni*se, is the only place where it 
ought to be. The string coui*ses are kept subordinate, but alwaya 
mark the floors ; and each storey is a complete design in itself. AVhen 
ornament is ap[)lied, it is to the window-dressings or constnictive 
features, and generally elegant and in gocxl taste, so that the result of 
the whole is more satisfactorv than any to l>e found elsewhere, not 
even excepting Paris. All that is wanted is a little more pei'severance 
in the siime course, that certain details may 1x3 more thoroughly 
naturalised, and the whole style settle into that com[)leteness which 
would prevent the probability of future al>erration. 

AVlietlier this will be the case or not is rather problematicaL 
Ah'eadv we And early P'rench Renaissjince ornaments and high roofs 
]X?eping through (xrasionally ; and fashion, it is to Ikj feared, may, as 
it generally does, prove too strong for conunon sense to be able to resist. 
It will Ik.' very sad indeed should this })rove to l>e the case : for Monu- 
mental Architecture, to l>e siitisfactory, nuist l)e in accordance with, 
and based U])on, Domestic Art, if it is to l)e true and to sj>eak to our 
feelings. Certainly there is no city in mcxlern Eur(.>])e where the 
architects have shown such a])titude in combinin.i; all that is elegant 
in the Classical styles with the wants and rei[uirements of modem 
habits ; and if they now forsake the true ])ath, it is ditlicult to say 
where we are to look for any indications of hope or promise for the 


The k'st class of tin; iii.'w lumsus iit Iturliii iire of t!iu lyin; repro- 
seut«l ti] \V(H«lciit \i). -/A], Hhory the wiiuhuvs arc left to tell tlieir 
ovni stWT, witli nnlj si slijrlit rastioiitioii nt the biisu of the Imilding, 
and i> onr'iiiue lit the ti>|p : to ihesu nrv i\d<M iiii oeeiisiomil verjuuhih or 
balcony, Iml wliich is neither it jmiiI of the eonstriietum, nor interferes 
in any w-.ty with tiie niiiin lines of the tiesipj. With these simple 



Atud of I 

'lt',L;arit ami iiiiiiosiTii,' iiiiiiisions litive lx«n 
■ imu'li riirhiT tliiiii tli:.; i'\ii(ii[ik', simie few 
Lhf siiiiie strict lulht'i'L-ucu to tmtli. iiml the 

[ilaillLT ; but nil fK 

«mn; al'suiK'u of iitrLrtiitiori. 

CKtiwitiiiiilly. lis ill the m-uutlv ei'cctuil lioust' of ('"iiiit Putinalee, 
ihoR- is, ]iiTlmiis, t(X( eviileiil an iitti'iiiin to rejinKhii.u iJrfciaii (k-iails 
in more (wverity lliiiii is i|uitt' couiiiiiiiKli.' with iiimifi'!i nmnestic 
ArchitCfturt ; Imt wliuu tin; \\\wk is so cli.'piut ii-^ this (.'xain]ile, and 
when no ivnlly I'ssc'iit ial jdil of thf ik'si^'ii is siH'ritici'il to )irmliu'f this 
effect, the iiitnilui'tion i>f ihe-^e Classic livtails is imnlonulik'. In the 
j^uiseiim and slmlio wIilHi Kleiixt' Iniilt fur (.'uuiit l£!i(-y/iiiski, the 
^pici[ik;s of i'.nvk Art an; caim-il far Uymiil wkat are fipiiml in 

Chap. II. GERMANY : PvEVlVAL. 211 

this palace — to such an extent, indeed, is (Irecian feelintr carried 
there, as to amount to affectation ; hut this is a rare circumstance 
at Berhn. 

Another <rradation of this style is illustnited in Wooilcnt No. 248, 
which, thouirh situated at I)antziL^ is hv a Herlin an*hitect : and, 
though ornamented witli Classical details, a}>prcKich<'S more nearly to 
Meditvval feelinjr. This tendency is. in fact, the nn-k on which the 
style will prolwhly Ikj shipwrecked. Already the Romantic Si'hool in 
(rermany is obtaining innncnse inlinence : and althouirh all the attempts 
they have liitherto made in (rothic Aivhitectuiv have provcil utter 
failures, still the architects aiv working hanl, and, with the examples 
of what has l)een done in France and EuLdand U'fore their cvcs. mav 
easily prochice as good foruvries as we have done- if tlifff tris!, if. T^et 
ILS hojK.' they may l)e Siived this last and lowest staire (►f aivhitectuml 


Only two buildinL'"S of any im]K)rtance liave l>een erecte«l at Dresden 
of late vears, Ijcsides Schinkers (inard-honse mentioned alM)Ve. The 
tiret of these is the new theatre : the oihei" the new j»ictnre i:allery : 
both by Si'miKjr. 

The arrangement of the ]uctnre gallery is copied from that of the 
Pinacothek at ^Iimicli. with onlv such chamrcs as the necessities of the 
situation rendereil ncressarv. The front towards the Zwinier has 
much the siune galleried arrangement ; but the openings are smaller, 
the piers more sohd, and anythimr more in accordance with connnon 
sense would have Urn stnmgely out <»f ]»lace in a facade formiiiir as 
this does the fourth side of the Zwiriu.T Conrt. On the fnmt towards 
the river a third tier of galleries has been erected, lighteil fn>m the 
roof, which <rives--e.\ternallv — a considerable deirree of diLfiiiiv and 
solidity to the ])rincipal storey : and the centre is an elei:ant and an 
appro])riate i)iece of design, though a little wanting in the diLiiiity its 
situation seems to demand. 

Little or nothing has l)een done in Dresden in 1^'ivate or Domestic 
Architecture that is at all worthv of admiration. The new buildings 
are as connnonplace as the old, any imposinir effect they may jiossess 
arising fnmi their dimensions alone : while (M'casional cojues of Vene- 
tian palaces, and attemjjts in the style which modern (ierman archi- 
tects call Gothic, betray an unsettled state of public 0]>inion in this 
matter, and a want of i»urpose which can only lead to (•onfii>;.»n and 
to bad taste. 


The public buildings of Vienna hardly show that its inhabitants 
have profited by the movement taking ]>lace in other i>arts of 



Germany, or care more for the display of architectural design than 
their forefathers did at any period since the beginning of the six- 
teenth century. 

It is tnie that in a fit of enthusiasm, arising from the ac(piisition 
of the statue of Theseus by Canoya, they, too, determined on haying a 
Walhalla in which to enshrine their purchase, and forth\yith com- 
menced the erection of a copy of the so-called Temple of Theseus at 
Athens. Had they jKiused to inyestigate the matter a little, it \yould 
probably have Ix^en found that the temple they were copying was 
really dtxlicated to Mai's, and that the shrine of their new god was of 
a different shajK.' and style altogether. But the Viennese are not anti- 
quaries, so this did not matter. Had they lK*en architects, they would 
haye knowi. that to l>e seen to advantage the (Irecian Doric Order 
nnist be placed on a height where it can l>e looked up to : and the 
Grecians, in c()nse(]uence, always chose elevated sites for their temples. 
There are no hills in Vienna suited for this jmrjKjse : but there are 
some grand old bastions which would have formed the noblest terraces 
for such a building, had the idea suggested itself to them. The next 
best place was the crest of the glacis, where it could ha\e l>een 
approached, though in a far less degree, on an ascrending plane ; but 
even this advantage was neirlected, and they Jinally determined on 
erect imr it at f/tc bottom of the d^trh ! 

When the Edinburgh |>eo]>le placed their Doric institution at the 
foot of the mound, it was as irreat a mistake as they well could make : 
but a Doric ])ei'istylar temple at the bottom of the ditch of a forti^ess 
suq'Jiisses everything that has yet been done in the way of architec- 
tural bathos. 

We may ho[>e there has \kv\\ an improvement in taste and judg- 
ment since then, as they have recently erected u\\ the glacis a (Jothic 
church, which is really a very lH.'autiful building. As will l)e seen 
from the plan, it is j)ractically a copy of Cologne Catliedntl on a 
reduced scale, being 21^") ft. in length externally, with a nave 04 ft. 
wide interniilly : and inside the transej)t it is lOo ft. from wall to 
wall : so it is reallv a fii'st-<-lass church, as far as dimensions lto. Its 
details are all designed with elegance, and executed with care : so that, 
altogether, it ]>r()b.i])ly is the K'st modern reproduction of the style of 
Cologne Cathedral. The poetry and ab;in<lon of the older examples is, 
of couise, wanting : but after the com[)letion of one or two such biiild- 
inirs we shall l>e saved from the monstrosities of that stranufe style 
which the (Germans have recently been in the habit of assuminir was 

ft i^ 

Gothic : 

A still lar«j:er church has recentlv been erected as the Cathedral of 
Linz. It is loo ft. long internally, and the transejit is 1*^8 ft. from 
wall to wall. It has only one western tower instead of two, 
and is neither so rich in ornament nor so complete in its details 

Chap. II. 



SB the Viennese example. Both, however, ore very ^rand churches, 
and probably indicate that the future style of ecclesiastical edifices in 
,\uBtria will — as with hb — be iu the style of the Middle .^gea. If 
this sliould be the case, of 

liouree ive can look for nothing 
from that country but repro- 
ductions of bygone deaijms. In 
A coiuitr}' so int<:n8cly Oathrilic 
as Anstria, this will at least be 
appropriate, and the adojition 
of this syst-cm theiv need be 
luniented only in an urtistic 
point of view ; if we may judge 
from the very little they have 
done in {lae-t ages, this cannot 
Ik; a subjitt of dwp ixjgret to 
the architectnral world. 

Tile ni(et strikun:, as well 
as the tiLihst exleiisive, new build- 
ing in or aluut Vienna, is the 
new Iniiierial Arsenal : and this 
is all the nioin; ereditiible. iuas- 
nni(;h as this clitss of design is 
genendiy handed over to the 
engiiiLtr, and he is left to pro- 
vide as iMst he fan for the 

utilitarian exigencies of the case, with little, if any, refeivnce to the 
artistic effect. In this instance, though the whole is of hi'ick, with 
only the slightest iKJssible aduiixtim; of stone-di'essing In the more 
ornaniental parts, the different blocks have l>een so aiTangLtl that their 
purpose is easily understood, aud in order that they may group pleas- 
ingly with those around it. 

It is an immense sipiare of building, measniing about II.IK ft, in 
front by nearly 2(>(m ft. in dejith. At each angle is a great casemated 
biirnick. Between these the longer sides niv occupied by hlo<!ks of 
stnrehonses. Opposite the ontHtn<x' is the ehaiiel, and in the centre are 
the cannon foundry and small-arms workshoi.e. 

Besides these, fronting the entrance, is the annoury — by far the 
most ornate jxirtion of the group, and a very pleasing spwrimen of the 
style of brick nrcliitutture adopted hy the Italians in the iliddle Ages, 
It may Iw objected that the style is too nniato, the parts too small and 
florid for the ])nri)08e to which they are here applied ; and it is tnic 
that a more severe aud miissivc style would have l)een nioiv appro- 
priftte to the purpose — but as it is in a citurtyard. and not seen from 
the outside, this ubjoction is luu'dly tenable, the effect of the whole 

2U lllSToilV Ml' lH>|ii:i!N AIMHTIXTlUr.. 

I tbi^ 

M i'lMli ii .Itivi-li sviiiiL'ii','.!.' li;is jiisl !ni-ri I'miiiiliifd in [lie Siiiiii' 
Mvl.'. iiixl \>y [))•.- s>i1ii>' :«vlii[i-.-i-.-l.. Koi-slir : wliirlj is llii.- lui^t 
rtrikini: l-iiiMinu' in tliiii ■.jiv. Tli.-r.- i« uii "f nrii'miilisui 
ill tin; lMll....(i-likr .■tii-.l;is--.vri.iirily not (iriiuiL.I-Hlii.-h nvnii tin- 
liiH.-is iiinl iiiiLrk's. iiiiil. li'iiii' L'iii. liiMwt r-iiiisi<l.;nil>ly fnmi tin.- 
ntlh-rwix- subiT ii|i|iuiirainr iif [In- stnmmv. \unvi1l1slj11nli115; lliis, 
iKrtliiiiL' •'iiii Hi'll 1«- hioiv •.-U'U'ntit lliiin iW- m-A,- in ivlii.-lt i][c v;irii>lLs 


-■-'■ " : tw-'^'-J — i >,i-='°,:!^M""'J 

II I ' ' ■ \" ' , i' '? ^ 



■■; !i;ii' «■ 



' — 

' " 

Ulll.l^ <.!' .1l|T.']viiL <'..1.>iiiv.I 1u'i.'1;s :>n <li^|M,s.^I. :,ii.l []i,. w.iv in M'liiiii 

tli.i- l.iii.l tlic >«ri.iu. ],in- i.f ilfc' .l.-k' :.'.il»r. Tin «„!i,.»„rk 

.,f 111- «ii,.lN.v- i- i,l~. i,i„i- il i.ii.ilk w,ll ,l,-ijin-.|. aii.l iir 

IVl-fivl 1,^,1- IV Wilh ill.- <!.l:iil< ..r ill.- l.|-:.-k <.|ili.v III tttli.-ll iIk-v 

l.-li.ii-.-. Iir.-.iiii 11.1 -i-,.iiil.-iii- ,11-.- ..f imii-.,- iiiii.liaii 1.- in tliiV 

Hvl.- mill Willi ilils iniit.rii.l. I.iu ili I,- in ii i- n,..! ni i|,|. 

.Miiin.'li mill ..ili.'i- i-iiilniir ,Mii..ii> in li.-nn.-inv. wiili iln- m^i- ili>- 
lllav.-.l ill ilii> S_n,nL-..L'ii.-. all.! in ili.- Ar-nnl iii Vii-nni.. >li..ivs ilnic ii 


ven- c()n.sidera])le amount of elegance can be attained hj the use of 
different coloured bricks with a slight admixture of stone and of terra- 
cotta ornaments ; and there is no reason why these materials should 
not Ik.* employed with the most modern as well as with the Medijeval 

Although there are, besides this, some very large and important 
buiUings in Pesth, and some very pictures piely situated ones in 
Bu<la, there are none which ciin pretend to much architectural beauty. 
Thfv are all aci^oitling to the usual re^ciix.' — pilastere and plaster, 
adorned with white or vellow wash, relieved bv gre»en Venetian blinds. 
At Vienna another element is intrwluced, very destructive of archi- 
tect nrdl effect, in the double windows which it is found necessary 
to employ everywhere. The outer ones, in conseipience, l)eing flusli 
with tlif wall, there is no appirent depth of reveal to the windows, 
and tlio whole is as flat and unmeaning as it well can Ihj. AVhen we 
add to tills that all the walls are stuccoed and all the more delicate 
mouldings choked l^y rejieated coats of \vhitewash, it is easy to under- 
stand how vain it would l>e to look for any very pleasing examples of 
Architectural Ait among the modem houses of Vienna or its neigh- 

The great monastic establishments which still exist in various i)art8 
of the Austrian dominions would have afforded numl>erless op()ortuni- 
ties for Architedural display among a more artistic ])eople ; l:)ut none 
of them are remarkable for any evidence of taste in this direction. 
One of the oldest and most celebrated is Klosterneubei-g, near Vienna. 
In the year 17:^0, the Emperor Charles VI. commenced the pre'sent 
buildings on a scale of such magnificence that they are still incomplete ; 
but the parts that have been finished show so little real artistic fcK?ling 
that this is lianlly a subject of re*gret. 

Tin- most splendid of these establishments is, jxjrhaps, the gixjiit 
Convent of ^lolk. It stands on a rock overhanging the Danube, in a 
situation so grand aiid so jacturescpie that it is difficult to understand 
an architi'ct not being ins])ired by it to do S(miething lieautiful. Not- 
withstanding this, it would not l)e easy to j>oint out any building in 
EuroiM* of tlie siime pre*tensions which possesses so little poetry of 
desiirn iis this. Its flanks externally are^ not unlike those of tbe Escu- 
rial— plain, bamick-like buildings of great extent, pierc*ed with num- 
Ix'rless windows, but without any ornament. The church occupies the 
same relative position as that of the Escurial, with a dome in the 
centre and two western towel's ; and these are crowned by the con- 
torted bulbous s])ires so prevalent throughout the Austrian dominions. 

Sevei-al of the smaller establishments, perched on rocks, or nestling 
in secluded valleys, are ])icture*S(iue or plciising, in spite of the style 
in wliich they are built. But not one, so far as is known, is worthy of 
admimtion as an object of Art. 



Whttt we really miss moBt in reiiewinjj the Architectnral liistor; 
of (iermaiiy nre the village churches, ftud the eotiutry seats of the 
iiobluiueii orsniirwi, whieh fonu the bulk ami the cluirmof the Arclii- 
tectiiml ubjfC'ts of this cotiutir. Even in the Middle 
Ages the villa^fe churches of Ocmiany were little 
more than ]>laiti halls, without aisles or clutcstory — 
polygonal at one end, with 
a few tall, inissbaiicn win- 
dows at the side, and a nide 
wooden roof over all. The 
single spire, whieh was in- 
tended tu l>v their external 
ornament, was generally 
placed on a sigiiarc tower 
without buttresnes or break, 
and the transition bi^wocn - 
the two parte whs seldom 
even broken by liattleineiits 
or pinnacles. After the Re- 
formation, as may In; easily 
uiidei'KtiMKl. it naa worse. 
The iHKly of the ebiuuh was 
little lietter than a burn; ^, n„niun si.ire « 
the tower was, if jmssible. KutienburR. 
even ]i|iiiner: and its qiiif, 
always in Austria and generally eJsewJiere. of the curious bulbous 
character which is even now so common ; ' their unly lui-ril l>eing 
that no two siiin.'a are like one another : liut though the strange 
unmeaning vagarii.-s in which the art^hitevts ha\'e indulged ruay be 
creditable to their ingenuity, they are by no means m to their taste. 

The countrj- seats are even moi-u objwtionabJc. With llie fewest 
jKissible exceptions, the feudal castk-a are desertitl and in niins, and 
tliea' is nothing to a>place them. A man may trikVel From the Baltic 
to the Adriatie without Hceing a single genlleniarrs seat or country- 
house worthy of the name. If a nubleiiuin has a mansion ^^■here he 
can reside on his lands, it is only like a large public bitildiij'j at the 
end of a village, with an avenue of welk'lipiK'd limes leading from 
the fi-ont door to the public nmd, and jicrhajis an aeri- or two of 
ground laid out as a formal flower-traiilcn. The most luimliful sites 
in the loveliest scenery aiv ntti'riy Ticglecteil. The ei)n\icti(in is 
everywhere forced u]>oii us that the (iermans as a in'oplu have none 
of thai real appa-ciation of the lieauties of nature which in this 

■ WoodculB 23C and 
tliey may be ih> cnllctl. 

!3T arc iiclecled a« favoumblo Bpurimens nf tho^c gpires — if 


couUtiT goes 80 far to redeem our want of knowledge, or of true feeling 
for Art in general. The country has no charms for them ; and it is 
very iiuestionable whether Art can be true or deep-felt without a love 
of Nature. At all events, in so far at least as Architecture is con- 
cerned, it seems in Germany to be an exotic forced into a transitory 
bloom in the hot-beds of the cities, but having no real existence 
bevond their walls — a matter of education or of fashion, but not a 
necessity, or a thing in which the people really take a deep or heart- 
felt interest. 


Although Switzerland is not in reality a part of Germany, it seems 
hardly worth while to devote a separate chapter to a country which, 
during the three hundred years over which this history extends, has 
only erected one building of sufficient importance to be mentioned. 
Being ])rincii)ally Protestant, and generally poor, it is hardly to be 
ex^)ected that any new or important churches would be found ; and the 
cities are, as a general rule, hardly important enough to indulge in 
any great display in their municipal buildings. 

Recently, however, they have erected a Federal Palace at Berae, 
which is one of the best modem specimens of the Florentine style 
that has yet been attempted. The centre especially is bold and 
well designed ; and with its deep balcony, and the range of open 
arches under the bold cornice, it has a dignity worthy of the style, 
and very sujicrior to anjrthing of the same class at Munich or else- 
where. The wings arc hardly ecjual to the dignity of the centre. So 
bold a cornice suggests and requires something more importiint than 
a plain tiled roof ; and the centre, — at least over the gi'eat hall at the 
end, — ought to have had as bold a parapet as the central division of 
the front. These, however, are minor defects ; and, taken as a whole, 
it is one of the most successful, as it is, for its situation and purposes, 
one of the most appropriate buildings of the present day, and forms a 
singula I* and instructive contrast with the Parliament Houses which 
we were tTW'ting sinmltaneously, and for the same identical purposes. 

Putting on one side, for the prc^sent, the question whether the 
Swiss building is not too literal a transcript of the Florentine style, 
a compirison of the two buildings fairly raises the question, which 
of thesf two styles — assnining we must adopt one of them — would be 
most suitable for the situation at AVestminster. 

Taking the outline of Barry's river fa9ade (Woodcut No. 217) as a 
basis for comparison, let us suppose a block like the centre of the 
Bernese Federal Palace ])laced at either end, where the Speaker's and 
Black Rod's houses now stand ; between these a central block, more 
ornate, but of the same height as the wings, and occupying the same 



extent of ground aa tlie centre division of the Parliament Hoiist'S ; 
and then these joined by curtains four storeys in height, like those at 
Benie, but more ornamental in eharncter, wliicb their beius: a-eessed 
would render quite admissiltle. Which would have l»een the nobler 
building, or the l)eBt suited to our purposes ? 

Tlie first iinswer that occura is, that tliongli so much !iu-<:er In 
bulk, owing to the increased height, the Floreutiiie biiildinir "ould 
have been very much cheaper — probably to the c\tent of one lialf. in so 
far at least as the architectural decorations of some ]Mit8 are coneenied. 

The next reply wonld be, that it is more suited to our climate, 
having no deep tiodercuttings to he choked u]) with soot, and no 
delicate mouldings to be eaten atvay by damp and frost. 

The Benn.«(, style tt ould hi\L combined ]x;rftaU with tma-\ of 
any height, or domes of any uxttiit without tlieii. In,inj am dineer 
of their tnishintr the hmldin.i to nhuh the\ wut ULichet! or 
destroynu its (.ffett in an\ w n 

It would ha\L jirodim-d a far mort imiSBUt and a nmnlui building, 
and therLfort moiL appropiiati to Us jtiri^jscs, thin om (irniil ont 
in tiiL tlaborntih tlt^mt hai. far too dtliuite Bt\li. emphned in the 
Westminster design 

luternalK it would ha\c demanded [lainttni. and Mulpturt not of 
the MediTj^ il tipc, but of the higlie-.t daas the irt of tin, din toiild 
furnish wlidt the furnituix niid decorationi mi^lit all haie Iwn of 
the most modem and most ele^mt patterns 


lu addition to these advauta^ces tlie Hall and the Abl)ey wonld have 
l>een left in the VQ\yoae of truth and beauty, not, as they now ai*e, in 
competition Avith a modem rival, imitating their ornamentation, but 
far suri)assing them in richness of display. 

A few years hence, few ])robably will dispute that a simpler, a 
more massive, and more modern stvle would have l)een far I setter 
suited for our Parliament Houses than the one adopted. Whether it 
ought to Ixj the one the Swiss have employed is nuich more doubtful. 
It seems, however, clear that they are neai-er the truth than oureelves : 
and with some modifications their style might be so adapted as to 
make it approach more nearly to what is really right and truthful 
than anything which we have vet done in modem times, (-)f course 
the right thing to do would Ixi to forget both the Medici and the 
Tudors, exce])t in so far as Ave can leam auA'tliing from the new fomis 
they introduced, or the new principles they elaborated, and, having 
done this, to think of the nineteenth century only and its require- 
ments. AVe ai*e still far from this ; but there are signs that we aix» 
advancing in that direction. When once fairly embarked on this 
|>ath, it will not l)e difficult to produce buildings which, with as nuich 
gr.indeur of outline, shall \\c far more l)eautiful than the Berne 
example, and, with eipial l>eauty of detail, will l)e ecjually more 
majestic than our Houses of Parliament. 





[If we thoroujrhly grasp the idea that the style of architectural design 
lielonging by natural law to the curreut period of modern Eurojiean civilisa- 
tion is the Italian Renaissance in the widest application of the tenn, it 
would seem to follow clearly enough that the highly developed intelligence 
of the German ntition, although by no means disinclined to accept any 
favourable opportunity for enjoying the intellectual amusement of 
** reviving *' the obsolete antique, nnist inevitably revert to the standard 
system in the end. Accordingly, the revival of the licademical Hellenic 
which has lieen descrilxKi in the foregoing pages may no doubt l)e 
reganied as most excellent and learned histrionics ; and we may also 
award a certain amount of pmise to the efToits subsequently made in 
other (juarters of the land to j>r()duce an imitation — eipially histrionic 
although not learned — of the fashionable Neo-Gothic work of England ; 
but what we should exj)ect to see without fail would Ik? a return to the 
national version of the Italian ; or mther, we should 8up}K)se that this 
German-Italian in its onlinaiy forms would ha found to have con- 
tinuously governed the every-day design of the |x.Tiod, and that the 
exhaustion of the ex|Xiriments of revival would simply leave the proper 
UKxle of the times to proceed with its development without ol)struction. 
And such has Ixhju the C4xse. Up to the date of tho war Ijctween 
Germauv and France in 1H7(), the German architects mav l>e sjud to 
have followed the lead of Paris content<jdlv. Not that the German- 
Italian was the French- 1 tali an: but the two were of the sjune ty})e, and 
the one a guide for the other. The inherent finesse of the Gallic Latin 
could scarcely l)e emulated by the Teuton, and there lay the i)rincii)al 
difference. The extraoitlinary impulse which was connnunicated to 
Parisian architectui'e by the magnificent building ]M)licy of the Second 
Emj»iiv was scarcely felt in Germany. Neither does it apjx'ar that the 
acknowledired ]>hilos()phical power of the Germans manifested itstrlf in 
their aivhitectunil Avork in anv i)hase of moi-e thouirhtful desijrn : the 
typical Frenchman of any culture is an artist born rather than made, 
while the typical German, like the Englishman, is iKTha|)s too frecpiently 
neither the one nor the other. But, be all this as it may, the result of 


the war certainly was to confer upon the united German nation a new 
sense of leadership ; and the effect of this has naturally made its 
apf)earance, amongst other things, in architecture. In two words, German 
artistic building may be said to have become much more powerful and 
much more elegant. The increase of power may be simply traced to an 
advanced sense of importance ; the improvement in elegance is still to 
l)e attributed to the influence of France. If before the war France had 
been dependent upon Germany for guidance in art, it is perhaiDS not too 
much to suppose that the indignant sense of defeat would have led her 
architects to repudiate the accustomed guidance at whatever sacrificHJ ; 
but there was no such difficulty on the other side. It had been the 
habit to keep an eye on French work for the sake of artistic protit, and 
obviously there was no reason why that coui-se should not be continued ; 
the feeling of martyrdom was with " our friends the enemy." The 
German edition of the Parisian Architecturc has consequently produced 
in the great towns during the last twenty years a profusion of very 
elegant and stately edifices, most notably in Vienna and Berlin. 

The illustrations No. 2-48« and 248ft give a very fair, and a very 
favourable idea of the Gennan architecture of the passing day. That 
the gi-aces of projwrtion in detail wliich are so chai'acteristic of similar 
work in France are to be discovered here, is more than the critic could 
venture to suggest ; but neither can it Ix? denied that there is to be 
seen a cerUiin display of refined taste and lilxjrality of artistic motive 
which indicate the command of both natural intellect and acquired 
knowledge in their highest forms. Compared with some of the Ijest 
examples of English work of a similar type, it may perhaps be said that 
such designs as these exemplify very distinctly the results of the 
elaborate academical training of Continental schools contrasted with the 
non-academical office-pupilage which constitutes the chief pirt of 
architectural education in England. It is stoutly contended by typical 
English critics that the system of office-pupilage is the preferable mode 
of instruction; that it encourages the development of individuality and 
original feeling; and that it fills the country with variety of artistic treat- 
ment, where the ateliere of Continental States produce only elegant uni- 
fonnity and monotony, and artificial graces which soon pall upon the appe- 
tite. At the present moment earnest endeavours are being made in London 
to establish the mciins of supplementing, if no more, the training of the 
office, by introducing the element of outside teaching, and everyone nmst 
wish well to such attempts. It can scarcely l)e disputed that the typical 
English architect, who has " picked up " the craftsmanship of design in 
two or three good offices, or perhaps in only one, has to rely U|K)n somewhat 
limited resources. At the same time it mav be clear enough that after a 
long-drawn-out training in a State-supi)orted ScIkkjI of the Fine Arts on 
the Continent the student is most likely to find himself overtaught, and 
his freedom of thought very much drilled out of him. If the happy 


...-««^ .. 

-A^'^iisra rassnsKsf?n 


^ -iA^^Y¥fli M 

!. ill III'!!,:, m. 

i A'; i 'i |i*' fe^ 




'^ ■ ■ 

-- . --__--_. -S^!:!^- 


fc ^JE^-" ^ 

nifdimii ciiii bt iHscoveml ^^ihui tiiuuj,'li iiiiil uarjiti'il in KiiL'lisli offices, 
iio (loubi it, will be ii \t;ry iromi thiii^ for tlii.' tiiiiL'S that iirc L-uiuinp. 

( 'lie tiling tlmt is illiistniti.Kl \i-ry fiiirly in Xo. ilxh is tliu somewhat 
iiiuivtrivious on 1 amen tat ion which is to bu swu in ii l'imk! ik'al of the new 
stivi't Airhitetturf of Oenniniy : it is sciiiwly iiti-t-ssiin- to i)bsfr\o that 
in "euk hands tiiis jiRiflice in fi-eijiieiilly lo esa-ss:. 


AiiothiT practice ia ilhistnited in No '2-lHa whicb iu Eiijrlaiid has now 
haiipily <tiitappeart-d in all {food work ; for not a littlu of t)w moet 
attnicii^x- nn-liltectnre iti some of the chief Otniian cities is iin- 
fortunattly produced in cemeiit. Now it may no doubt Ijecouteuded with 
jierfect tnitli iu the ab^iBct that cement facing, if used in the riglit way, 

is ii legitimate l>ni!ding-ttiateriul. The use of plaster- work, for iustmicL', 
1* lift iuttTior finish for walls and ceiliiiirs, it is a luea' uffiftalion of 
iirrliawm to think of dispmigiiitr : w> iniidi bo that the lirirk fik'ing 
iii>ii!i' <mr churches and the stone fariufKi inside tliL lAindon I.iiw Courts 
may lie slid to carry reahsin into actual vulgarity. But whenever 
either plaster-work within or cement work without is to be iiseil as a 


material for artistic Architecture — not mtre wall-covtriug — then tlit' ti ua 
architect is bouud to face tLu qutstiuu boldlj, what are the limits of its 

pcrfwtly IciritimaU; usel- To pn»Uicu .» Cliissic '■ imier " inside a pablic 
hall in lath and plaster on cmdlint;. ]■• certainly not Ic^dtinuitc ; and 
when the uave-piera aud arches of a church have been constructed in the 


. 'I'.. iMlil.l til. Jill ;i<'i]il.'lllii'iil sMvrt 
■1 Willi i, Mirfi.'v,.f .V iiii..siimilaU' 

l.'VUTklMll lljill^'tlLaK'NllMI.! |.»> 


he ilone It'gitiiiinU-ly. hi wiiiii' nf Sir Joliii Soaiit's work in Limiloii — 
iiotiilily in Ilia Museum in Liiiriiln's Iim Ficlil:' — iiii Iioufst !itti.'in|>t. m^oiu* 
U) hwt: ki'ii niadf to unutrivc ii stvle of ornameut suitalile for tho 

cenicnt faciMi: ttifri mi uuivcrs;il!v in usp 

: tlip result (Hiiv u<i 

.l<.;iht 1« 

eallnl A fuilurc. Iiut tli<-n. is t-vi.K.niv 

il llMst .,f iHrtll 111. 

i^'lit aud 

i-ouniL'f. lint tlif ijiusiiiin of tin- n 

tistie tn-iitriii'Mt iif 


wirfuc-s is n l.irirc- ouu ;iiul, ultln.uirli i 

1 lliciiri'tiriil i-ritii-is 

Chap. III. UEl!iIA.\Y : UECEXT AliCIMTKlTUliE, til 

iiicnns uiiintcTL'Siins, in in |iracti<:f of ton littk' iiriiHiilimtt- to hiivi* 
pmvoki-fl niiicli iliwiwsinri. 

I'latu ■Jlsr rqia'sc'Tits the cuiitnti jiail of liif [H'iticijiiil fmiit of llic 

mliirnl HoiiM^nl lUlin. U is u'faii.lios.' i<ii<] 
niiir iL-L'Ti-t.-, attil sntli.-inuly itr:iil,'iiiic-;il : hut 
.icttTiK-il Iiv tlif R'tiiviKf of trui; unisiic jH.wtT 


vulgar, but it appeals to the vulgar. The sculptural ornament is 
ornament only, and very much overdone ; the architecture would be 
almost better with none of it at all But the radical fault of the composi- 
tion is the prodigious pom[)ou3ue3s of the entrance door — for this is all 
it is. To what vast Arena can such an Arch of Triumph admit what 
superglorious Titanic Beings ? At any rate it tells the story admirably of 
the perha])6 excusable inflation of the German genius after the somewhat 
unexpected conquest of its by no means modest neighbour. 

It can be easilv understood that, whilst French taste could never 
l)e brought to occupy itself seriously with the revival of the Gothic Arts, 
the sympathies of the Germans might be readily led in that direction, 
as has been the case with the kindred English. Plates 248^/ and 248c 
represent two crowning efforts of the modern German Gothic, the 
Votive Church in Vienna l>y Von Ferstel, and the Town Hall of the same 
city by Von Schmidt. It is needless to remark that the ecclesiastical 
example is very suixirior work to the municipal : in fact English Church 
architects may, from their very highest standjioint, cordially recognize 
the great artistic merits of the Votive Church, while even the least 
exac^ting of our Secular Gothicists would think twice or thrice Ijefore 
according their approval to the Town Hall. Both compositions are 
somewhat showy ; but that is chai*acteristic of the locality generally, and 
perhajjs excusably so in the bright ciipital of Austria. 

The National Academy at Athens (Plate 248/) is of course not on 
German ground, but, as an admirably designed monument of German 
Hellenism bv Von Hansen on the very soil of Hellas, the credit of its 
merits has to be awarded to (Jerman art. The reader will no doubt 
perceive that the jwir of monumental columns arc to carry statues. 

Referring to the (|uestion of the influence upon the character of 
industrial art products in general which has Ix^en brought about by the 
International Exhibitions, it may perhaps be said that in Germany the 
results have not l)een so directly apiwirent lis in England. This would 
naturally Ikj so. The artistic guidance of France had always l)een much 
more at hand, and its auLliority more cordially appreciated. The enter- 
prise of England as a country of such givat wealth has also been greater 
in such matters than that of the poorer Fatherland. But that German 
artizansliip of the liigher order has had its sliai-e in the lx?netits conferred 
on the wliole world bv the iiitercomnumion of the hist forty vears will 
not hi 'questioned by any one. It may also be said that German 
a?adeiiiijMli.siii has not snccumlx'd to the |Kjpular principle ; but this 
again is ^ut a hx^al and siii>erticial (|uestion, and, so far as Anrhitt^cture 
is a ti^t, ilni advan<'e of artistic lil)erty cannot be denied. — En.] 







There is a group of small nationalities extending from the northern 
boundary of France to the Arctic Sea, along the shores of the ocean, 
which may safely be grouped together ; and, as far as their Architec- 
tural history during the Renaissance period is concerned, may be dis- 
posed of in a short chapter — not on account of any affinity of race 
or similarity of taste which exists among them, but simply because, 
during the three centuries to whose architectural history this volume 
is confined, they have done very little indeed in the way of artistic 
building, and done that little badly. 

^luch could not be hoped for from the Scandinavian group, inas- 
much as, during the Middle Ages, when all the Avorld were cultivating 
with success the art of Architecture, they erected very few buildings 
that were remarkable in any respect, and Ifcarcely one that was 
original. Indeed, they showed no taste for aix'hitectural display 
during that period, and it is consequently hardly to l)e expect<?d that 
they should have developed any at an age when all the more artistic 
nations of Europe were forsaking the wonderful styles they had for 
centuries l)een bringing to perfection. Still less could it be supposed 
that they should either have invented a new process, or done anything 
worthy of notice by that mode of proceeding which had proved so 
fatal in eveiy other land. 

The honest Dutch are, and were, too matter-of-fact a people ever to 
excel in any decorative art. In painting they dehghted in repro- 
ducing nature literally but tnithfully, but with the nirest jjossible 
exceptions never went beyond the limits of what nn'ght have Inien 
observed ; so in Architecture, good, honest, ])rosaic buildings, suitable 
for the uses for which they were designed, were all they cared to erect. 


Better things nii^ht have l)een exjiected of the Belgians. During 
the ^licklle Ages, architiK;tural magnificence was in Belgium certainly 
one, if not the |)rinci})al mode of di8i)lay ; and the country is even 
now covered with the gorgeous monuments which resulted from this 
taste. It is true her aithedrals are neither 80 pure nor so artisti- 
cally jKrrfect as those of France or England, and that her town-halls 
are, generally at least, nioi*e remarkable for their dimensions and for 
the richness of their details than for the Ixiiiuty of their design ; but 
still the Belgians were a building iK,M>])le, and strove always to build 
ornamentally. It is not ut first sight very apjwrent why they should 
suddenly have ceased to indulge in a pursuit they had followed with 
such zial, nor why, when they did return to it, they showed less 
aptitude for it than is to l>e found in any of the neighl)Ouring lands. 
It mav luirtlv Ix; that the Jklgians are not esseutiallv an artistic 
peojjle : l>ut a great dejil is also due to the practical loss of liberty 
which resulted from their connecti(»u with Charles V., and from their 
falling into the junver of Philip of Sj)iiin, whose iron rule put a stop 
to anv na ional dis])lav. The loss of their connnerce, also, in con- 
sequence of the discoveries of (.'olumbus and Vasco de (Jama, deprived 
them of tlij means, even if they had had the tast^, Uy continue the 
lavish exi^enditure they had hitherto indulged in on objects of archi- 
tectural ma<j:nificence. 

To this must Ik.^ added that the Reformation, although it did not 
change the outward form of the religion of the people, still destroyed 
that unhesitating faith in an all-|K)werful and undivided Church, 
which couhl do all and save all, and which conse(]uently led men to 
lavish their wealth and devote their talents to ]»uriK>ses wliich were 
sure of si»me reward at least in this world, and certain, they thought, of 
undoubted recompiMise in the next. 

Antwerp was the onlv (me of the Belirian cities where the water 
I • ~ 

was deej> enough ()]>posite her quays U) be used by the larger vessels 
which, in consetiuence of the discoveries i)[ the Sj)aniards and Portu- 
guese in the sixteenth century, came to l)e empl(»yed in long sea 
voyages : and she c()nse<|uently retained something of her ancient 
prosjierity long after (Jheiit and Bruges had sunk into comi>arative 
insignilicance ; and as a natural consejuence of tills, Antwerp has 
moiv the a})]H'arance of a nKnlern town than any of her rivals except 
Brussels, and possesses some buildings in the RenaiSvSJince style which 
are worthv (►f attention. 

The princiiud of these is the Hotel de Ville, eret^ted, in l^sl, by a 
native arcliitect of the name of Cornelius de Vriendt, and a verv fair 
siH-Humen of the style of the }>eri(Kl. The width of the fa9ade is 305 ft., 
with a height to the top of the cornice of lo2 ft. This height is 
divided '\\\U\ four storeys : first, a bold, deep aauide, then two storeys of 


windows of large dimensions, but each of them divided into four 
coni|)iirtmcnts by large, heavy stone mullions, which not only prevent 
their apj>earing too large, but make them part of the whole design, 
and jxirt of the surface of the wall in which they are placed. Each 
window is separated from the one next to it by pilasters ; and above 
these three storeys there is an open gallery under the roof, with square 
Pinal's with bracket capitals in front. The employment of this open 
loggia in this j)osition is most successful, as it gives shadow without 
unne(;essary projection, and seems to suggest the roof, while it appro- J» 
priately crowns the walls. 

The building is more highly ornamented in the centre, being 
adorned with double columns between each window, and rising to a 
hei;:rht of 1 ^5 ft. to the head of the figure which crowns the jxjdimeut, 
though this, it nuist be confessed, is the least successful part of the 
comi>osition. The obelisks on either side aix; not only unmeaning 
but unirniceful as used heix>, and the whole has a built-up api)earance 
very unlike the quasi-natural growth of a Mediaeval design applied to 
the sauR* puii)08e. Notwithstanding this, there are few more suc- 
cessful designs of its class. It is free from all the extravagances 
which disfigure stnictures of its kind and age ; and equally free on 
the other hand from the affectation of grandeur which so often deforms 
later buildings. Each storey hei*e is complete in itself, and there is 
not ii single ornamental feature applied wliich is either more or less than 
it [rt'etends to be. 

In the present state of feeling on this subject it would l)e the 
height of nishness to compire this town hall with its Mediaeval rivals. 
But, take away their towers, and j)ltvce them where they can l)e ecpially 
well sK'ii, and the Antwerp Town Hall will stand the conqKirison as well 
iis any other building of its age or class. Except to the extent to which 
the desitni of anv one man must be inferior to that of manv, and that a 
foreign style must be more difficult than a native one, it meets most of 
the requirements of goofl and tnithful Architecture. 

The Siinie praise c4innot \)e accorded to the churches built in the 
same age. The j>rincipal one at Antweip is that dedicated to San 
Carlo Borromeo : but, like all churches built by the Jesuits, its facade 
is overloaded with misplaced ornament. Intenially, there is something 
majestic in the simple vaidt of the nave, resting on a double tier of 
arcades, reproducing nuich of the old Basilican effect ; but this is again 
8ix)ile(l by the tasteless extravagance of the details ever}'where, by 
whitewash where colour Avas wanted, and by gaudy colours where 
sinq>licity and iv}»ose would Ixi far more effective. 

Although the Belgians, from the circumstances above enumerated, 
have no buildings erected during the Renaissance period which can 
rank with those of more artistic countries, still it is impossible to 



waudur tlirongh the laud without appreciatiiisj tin; scnuif: fi-(;liiig for 
tliu Ixiiiiitiw of Art oil tliu jiurt of tlie jiuopk', h ho, uiid'.T iiiurt- fin ourable 
drcmustiiii(.'fs, iiii^'ht and would have done things of which th(.-y miLtht 
justly Iiu^e lx.1'11 i«()ud. 

In ibeir cliurt'lifs ihc marble altaqiietea uru structun'S ofteu as 
large as Roman triuniiihal arcbts, and freij^uently in \LTy much better 
taste : and the rood-sciwjna and pulpits are freijueiitly fiuul, if not 
Bii|)erior, to Biniilnr exuin])!i.-s found t-lsi'Mht-i-e. In the constmclion of 
these edifices, too, tliey seldom full into the alisnnlities loo frequently 
met with in other eountries. When, for instance, the nave of a oburch 
ie eejiarated from its side aisled by pillars sti|i[jurtinir aivhes. it is the 
rarest possible thing to (ind a fragment of an entablature on tlie top 
of its pillars. The urcbivolt ristes Iwldly from the capital, and with a 
vigour that sbows tbiit the pillar is not a sham, but really an essential 
and useful part of tbo eoiisirnctiou of the edifice. 




In the ehupeli of St. Ainie nt Ilniires the .■maiiliilure over the pier 
an.'hea is beavy l^yori.! all ])ruci-(lent. inasmndi us it Idoiiirs to a tall 
Coniilhian onler. which is attaelied U, the tiiuiti [iii>i-s of the intvT- 
siftion, and the capitals of which aiv n^ by ilie brackets 
iKitween the aix-hes. This i^^ m,t (juite sunrssfiilly niiiiiau'iil but 
though the Itorie Onler b;LS to ^u],]mrt this lieaw iiiiablaiiire. and a 
clerestory and vault above, the elfe^l .,f il,e 'is mosi satisfactory. 
Tlie si-.rtalor feels iiol only that the sil|i|-.rr is stiltirient. !mt the 
aurhitect knew it would be s... an.l sectnvl ihe s;ifely of his super- 
striii'tllre by the immense s..lidily of rhe uirts In- emplovu'.l. 


• IcL'I'i 

thevbm-ch of the Cannelites at Oli 

U'k : 


■ of 

., aii.l [ 

of 1 



of thf Reiiaissunce as£e in Belgium. They may not Iw models of taste, 
but they are not the tame apin^ of classicality which are so afTensive 
in other coiiiitrics. It was hardly, however, to be expected that at an 
epoch ivheu neitiier Italy nor France could produce an ecclesiastical 
edifice wlilcli commands unqualifiw! admiration, a small country situated 
as Belgium then was could do much. All that can be said is, that in so 
far as church-building was concerned, she probably occupied the same 
relative position during the Renaissance period that she had attained to 
during the exhitcnw of the true styles. 

:bll«:lDriI Unmltur.' 

Thoui;b RHrHSEi.8 1ms l>cen so long ;i capital, it |X)Sse«M.'» no build- 
ingB of liny ait'hitcctunil innwrtiinc*; which have liccn cR'cti.-d since 
the liefonijatiiiii. nor a single modem clmnli which a traveller would 
ste]> out of tin- s[rc;t to visit in any second-nite capital of Italy. The 
Royiil Pabiiv is of very ordinary invhiti-ctua' both e.\l.i-i-r tally and 
intenially; and that which a " imtria njMu" erected for Prince 
William of Oniiige is as common] ilacc a dwelling as can well Iks con- 
ct.'iviil : although there arc' some handsome ajiaitments inside, tlieir 


beauty depends far more on elaboration and richness than on any of the 
higher characteristics of Art. 

The buildings in which the " Chambers " meet were erected under 
the Austrian rule, and are not uupleasing specimens of the usual 
portico style, which l)ecame stereotyped tliroughout Euro[)e at that 
period. In the new quarter of the town are some fair imitations on a 
small scale of the style of Domestic Architecture prevalent at Paris, 
but nothing either original or very well worthy of admiration : and of 
course there are some churches in the "style Gothique" which would 
make an English archaeologist shudder if he came within a mile of 

The new buildings erected for the Universities of Liege and Ghent 
afforded an excellent opportmiity for ai-chitectural display, had there 
been any one with talent sufficient to avail himself of it. These struc- 
tures are spacious, surroiuided by large open spices, and are at least 
intended to be of a monumental character. All, however, that has 
been produced in the way of architecture, externally, is a large ix)rtico 
with a crushing j)edime!it in the one instance, and an e<|ually large 
portico without any pediment in the other ; and, internally, some halls 
and lecture theatres of very ([uestionable taste. 

To this very meagi^e list might Ikj added the names of some 
chm'ches, — supposed to Ixi Gothic, — recently built, or now in course 
of erection ; but they are such, that it will be Ixitter Uiste to pass 
them over in silence. It is too evident that Architecture does not at 
present flourish in tliis industrious little corner of the earth. Still, the 
knowledge of what they have done in this art during the ^liddk* Ages, 
and of what they are now doing in Painting, affords every encourage- 
ment to hope that the Belgians may again resume the rank they are 
entitled to among the omamentally building nations of Europe. 




There is only one edifice erected ia Holland during the Henaia- 
aance period to vhich the Dutch can point with mnch pride as 
ciemplifj-ing their taste for architectural magnificence ; and, if bigness 
is merit, the Stadthana at Amsterdam is entitled to the position it 
claims in all books on Architcctnre. It has also the virtue of being a 
Btone building in a city of brick, and in a country where eiery atone 


, .fe^ifc^BW^ 

lilJ iJi 


III 1 






m. 1 






■ ■■■■|BII| 

3S1. FrvuBleTUloiiDfToiniHill, 

employed has to be imported by sea ; but, as an architectural design, 
it can only rank with the Cascrta or the Escurial, and other buildings 
remarkable for their dimensions, but also for their want of Art, 

Its dimensions in plan are 310 ft. by 200 ; and in height there is 
a basement storey of IG ft., raised on a stylobate or steps 4 ft. Iiigh ; 
and, above this, two ranges of pilasters, which are spread all orer the 
building — these occupy each 40 ft. in height, and together cover four 


ctoruys of windows. As if to make the disproportion between a hase- 
meut of IG ft. to a building inO fl. in height even more apparent, 
there are seven small entrances, symbolical of the seven provinces, in 
the princ^ipal fa9ade ; and as these are little more than h) ft. in height 
to the top of the arch, it seems a puzzle to know how the inhabitants, 
or traffic suitable to so large a building, could be got in by such small 

Internally, the arrangements are better than the exterior would 
lead iL^ to expect. The four staircases at wich end of the corridor are 
singularly convenient, even if not so artistic as one great staircase 
wouM 1k' ; and the jxxsition of the great hall in the centre is well chosen 
both for convenience and effect. The hall itself, which is 02 ft. wide 
by 12^) ft. in length, is really a beautiful ajuirtment, and by far the 
best feature in the building ; though some of the minor apaitments are 
also gcKMl in projxirtion, and elegant in their details. 

As Amsterdam is a more mcxiern citv than Delft, Levden, or 
Haarlem, and indeed the youngest of Dutch cities, inheriting only one 
imiH)rtant chun*h from the Middle Ages, it has had to build those 
it reipiired since the Reformation. TIktc are the '* Onde " and 
**Xicuwe Kercken," large and pretentious tHlitices, but possessing no 
merit either in arnmgement or in architi*ctural design : and the other 
chuivhcs of the town — as indeed all the Reformed chuix-hes of Holland 
— aiv plain utilitarian Imildings, designed more to contain the greatest 
numlK'r of worship|)ei's at the least iH)ssil)le cost, than to display 
aR^hitectund taste, or to ornament the situations in which thev aiv 




The Danes — or Bome one for them^biiilt one or two resiwctable 
nii<l interestiug ecclesinstical cdilicea in the roimd-arched fiothic style, 
during the early ages of the iiitnxlnctioii of Christianity aiiion'r them, 
but nothinir in the Pointed styles ; and, eince that period, it need 

hardly !» said that Architecture, as a fine art, has not existed lunong 
tliein. The palaces at Copenluigcn are laifre, and, it may be, con- 
vx'iiient buildin;^ ; tlie churches are HuRicient for thctr congrcgatioiiB, 
but pretend to nothinif more ; and the couritiy- houses of the jrentry — 
for the DiiiK.'^ do reside on their [irojjeriies—- arc neiit and cheerful 
residences, hut without^u any pnlilishod instants.' — pretendinK to disjilay. 

'J1]e one building of which the inhabitants of Co{icnliageii pretend 

238 msTuKY VV SKiPKliS AIlCIilTlXTl'KK. Rkjk VI. 

tti V- jir uil i" iliiii huliiii^t LUiii.ti li tliii-turi H tinHit tlic 
yi'iir H'rJl Ni iiiii h 111 kt. 1 <1 1 llitt (hiri-li l[ tint »h(ii 111 tlio 
v«Lir 18i>t<, It n it> inubfLiTL-d to tbt. mtn, kiitik l iiumuiiitj l>y 





^ff 1 






the crfiviTiiiiii'iit. it wn? 

sii|iiil!Lt.M! ihin 

I'li^iiiLTo Khnnlil 

II U .liflii'iili 1. 

ilis.-u\iT ulnTfiii 

-ist.. Til,- i.riii 

il>iil fii^'iuii.' if a 


characteristic Bpecimen of the style, and free from affectation, but 
not beautiful in itself ; and the seven great dormer windows which 
ornament its flanks are certainly too large for their position ; and 
the wall between them not being broken up so as to carry their 
lines down to the ground, they look as if merely stuck on, without 
any apimrent connection with the building. The spire of twisted 
dragons' tails is a capriccio pleasing enough in its way, but hardly 
good Architecture. 

To us the Castle of Elsinore is interesting from the associations 
comiected with its name, and also from its architecture being the 
exact counterpart of that found in Scotland at the same period. We 
could almost l>elieve that some parts of the Castles of Edinburgh or 
Stirling were built by the same architects ; and Heriot's Hospital 
and other buildings might be quoted as proving an almost exact 
similaritv of stvle iKjtween Denmark and Scotland during the Jacobean 
period of Art. In itself, too, the Castle of Elsinore is a picturesque 
pile as seen from the sea, and has a certain air of grandeur 
about it which pleases, though its details will not bear too close 

The Castle of Fredericksborg (Woodcut No. 253) was erected by 
the same Christian IV. who built the Exchange and the Castle of 
Rosenl>org at Cojienhagen ; and though in the same quaint style, 
and with the same detestable details, is, like its fellow palace in 
the capital, a })alatial and* picturesque edifice. When seen at a little 
distance, its numerous spires group gracefully together, and accord 
well with the varied plan and outline of the building. It has now 
also a certain air of antiquity and a weather stain about it which 
cover a multitude of defects ; but its details are far from being 
pleasing, and all that can l)e said in its favour is, that it is a most 
chanu'teristic specimen of the art — or the want of art — of the country 
in which it is found, and is another warning not to look for true 
Alt anung i>eople of such purely Teutonic blood as our cousins the 




The great lire at Hamburgh, in the yciir 1842, afTorded its 
wealthy citizens an opportunity of iinf)roving the appearance of their 
town, of which thev have availed themselves to a verv civditable 
extent. As this has l)ecn done chiefly under the influence of the 
example set them at lierlin, and under the guidance of the same 
architects, the new streets show the siime appreciation of the require- 
ments of Domestic Architecture which characterises the new jjuarters 
of that citv. 

In the new streets, every house, wlicther gi'cat or small, is a 
sepanite and distinct design, and, with scarcely a single exception, it 
is desiirn which exactly reproduces externally the internal arranirements 
of the building. There Ls no instance of gix^at pillared jxuticoes 
darkening the light, or concealing sho}>-fr()nts : no instance of tall 
. unmeaning pilasters running throngh two or three storeys, vainly 
attempting to make small things look large. AVhen cornices are used 
they are always at the top of the house, and ivpresent the eaves of 
the ro(^f : and the architectural features arc wholly confined to the 
doors, windows, and stringcoui*ses, and other essential ]nnts of the 
construction. It is true that the ornaments are not alwavs in the 
very Inist taste, nor so elegant or so well ajij^lied as lln»se found 
at Berlin : but the ireneral result is most satisfactory. The streets 
have all that variety and individuality whi(;h we admire so much 
in older towns, combined with the elegance and largeness which 
belong to their age ; and they as fully and as clearly express the 
wants and asi^irations of the nineteenth century as any of the 
buildings of the Middle Ages do those of the j>eriod in which they 
were erected. 

On the other hand, it may Ix' confessed that in the Post ()fl[i(*e, 
the National Society's buildings, and one or two private edifices, the 
(Jerman architects have attempted what tlu-y (?all Gothic, and have 
failed as utterly as they jreuerallv do when they dabble in this stvle. 
Not only aix' their details bad, Init the outline of the buildings is 
always so awkward and umneaning as to obtrude most un])leasingly 
on the otherwise harmonious result of the rebuildintr of the citv. 


80 complete is their ignorance of the principles of (rothic Art, that 
it is no matter of surprise that an Enprlish architect bore off both 
prizes in the competition for the relniilding of St. Nicholas's Church 
and for the new Town-hall. The first of these is now complete, 
except the npp<;r portion of the spire, and when completed, promises, 
as far as such a building can do, to make the good Hamburghers 
lx>lievf that the nineteenth century is a myth, and that the clock of 
time has stood still for the last five centuries — if not in cotton- 
spinning and engine-making, at least in all that concerns Architecture, 
or its sister Arts. 

VOL. [I. 





If any buildings of the Renaissance period exist in Sweden or 
Norway which are worthy of admiration, all that can be said is, that 
travellers have omitted to describe, or artisU to draw them, and that 
they have been equally ignored by the writers of guide-books. 

The tnith, however, most probably is, that, like their kindred 
the Danes, they are not an artistic, — certainly not an architectural 

The one building of theirs known as worthy of admiration is the 
Palace at Stockholm, commenced by the celebrated Charles XII., in 
the year 1698, from the designs of a French architect, Nicodemus 
de Tessin. Considerable progress was made in the works during the 
next seven or eight years ; but the expenses in wliich his wars involved 
the King, and, finally, his defe<it at Pultowa, arrested their progress, 
80 that they were not so far completed as to render the jwlace habitable 
before 175;^ ; but no depirture seems to have been made from the 
original design then or at any sul)se(iuent i)eri(Kl. 

The niiiin body of tlit* building is a nearly scjuare block, ?)7H ft. by 
382, enclosing a com-tyanl 247 ft. by 27n. The principil facade is 
extended by wings to a length of nearly 7()() ft. ; and the general 
height of the great centnil bUx'k is Do ft. to the top of the balustrade, 
from the granite basement on which it stands. In addition to these 
noble dimensions, the situation is almost unrivalled ; one of its faces 
being open to the inlets of the sea which divide the city so picturesquely 
into islands, — the other two, towards the town and the cathedral, are 
sufficiently open for ai"chitectural effect. 

Its great merit, however, is the simplicity and grandeur i»f the 
whole design ; in which it stands unrivalled among the jMilaees of 
Europe, with the single exception of the Farnese at Rome ; and in some 
respects its proportions are even better than those of that far-famed 
pilace. It is tnie the material here is only brick and plaster ; but the 
pirts arc so large and so well balanced that we forget this defect : and 
it is crowned by a cornicione so well proportioned to the mass Ik4ow, 
that the eye is charmed and the feelings satisfied from whatever point 
of view the palace is regarded. 


Tfaere are no two buildings in the world that stand in such 
diatintt contrast to one another, in this respect, ta this Palnce at 
Stockholm and the Winter Palace at St. Petcrsbui^h. Though 

PliDofPibrcitSUickholni. Fnnit Wl«beUD((. 



iiL-ui'ly of the Rtint! ugc, not iIHTcriii;: much in size, iind like one 
nnotlitr iu situalkiii, ttie 8ni>LTi()r dinienitionB of tlit' main block of 
tlie St. Pi'terebni^'li uxainplc is ciiiircly thrown away by tlie little- 
nuss of its i1t't»ils, nixl it nfTeiiils cvitv one by tite tnwdrincBS of ita 
biziirri' dcconitions ; while the other gains not only size, but ilij^iiitr, 
from its nolile xinijilicity, imd pleases nniversally from its exinvasing 
80 cU'arly wliitt it is, without ntTectntion or ittteni])t iit cunceuhueiit. 

It is to lie nfuetted that, even here, the fpirden fwnt is H(]onied 
with some threenjuarttT cohimn)*, which wonld 1« much Itetter away ; 
and tliere are some details in various jiarts whicli might be improved. 

Bnt these are trilles eompunil with the jrelienil uieiit (if the dcfli^ : 
and. roiisideriiitc the a>w in whieh it was eailiil. the Palace at Stock- 
liohu must lie ixjiiinhil as a marvellons instance of an^hitcetiiral purity 

Ululiyoixi tiUstu. 

The same 'I'c-ssin ert-ctcd several ci.iirehi's ami eouiitry-hoiisGa, 
cither in, or in the nei^hlxmrhood of SiiK'khnlm : but in thesL' he was 
not so sueCi'ssfiil lis ill the I'ulaw : and tmnc uf them are sufli aa to 
<xiiumiind the ailmimtiou wliich that j:n.'at work exttirts fnim all who 
liehuld it. 





[Similar progress to that which has been (le8cri])eil for (Jeriuan 
architecture has taken place of late years in the north-western countries 
of Europe, although witli far inferior opiH)rtunities of (lisi)lay. In 
Helgiuin it is French taste that is conspicuous : hut the ni(»st notable 
sjieciinen of the building art which has l)een pnKluced, the tnily magni- 
ficent Palais de Justice at Hmssels (No. 2r);V/), if it were the design of 
a Fivnchnian, wtaild (jertainly entitle him to l)e called the representative 
of a very advanced and original school. The supreme majesty of the 
edifice — aided immenselv bv the maiestv (»f the situation — strikes the 
l)eholder with the greatest fonre, and the lK>ldness of the groU}>ing 
and the ])lay of masses appear to (!any his mind jpiite l»eyoud the 
consideiiitions of criti(.'ism : but, nevertheless, when the design comes to 
\Hi architecturallv examined, there is no doubt that, if it still pleases 
the eye. it fails in certain jHiiiUs to satisfy the intellert. The impressive- 
ness of the comjiosilion <lei>ends largely u])on the intriKluction of certain 
inordinatelv massive features, rasilv recoi^ni sable, whose omission, ov 
reduction to the nn^vailinir scale of the desi^ni, would nrobablv tliminish 
the irrjindiose etfect consideniblv. In fact, there are sevei'al scales iu 
the composition, which it is more than difii(,*ult to attempt to reconcile ; 
and there are few lK)tter e.\(?rcises to in:* found f(»r the student than that 
which wouhl be furnished by the ])roblem how to bring all the features 
of this remarkable design into harmonv of scale without detracting too 
much from its }>eculiar effect of pictures(jue and ])i«iuant. and almost 
aggressive, grandeur. Of coni*se it would Ik* easy enongh to reduce the 
whole comiK)sition to one or another form of Classic sim])licity, Imt 
there is something here <juite adverse to all sim]>licity which constitutes 
the leading motive of the artist. On the whole this edifice may |)erhap8 
l)e described as the dream of a scene-] )a inter unexpectedly realised, iu 
which magnificence nuist be a<'cepted in lieu of taste, and the vague 
admiration of the multitude for the analvsis of the critic. 

In Holland the local devel<»]>ment of the Italian style has no 
tliffered materially from what has taken place elsewheit; : but there has 
iK-^iU some verv gocnl Gothic work done, chiefiv bv CuviK.'rs, and Plate 2'»r)/y 


eii US jicrliiips llif ln-st cxuiiiiilf lliiit lmu It cited. It 
i^\' wtiv a ri'viviil •<( ilio Mvdiii'Viil iiukIc s'.muld lit more 
I tLiit coniitrr thuii in tiuritiiuiv ; Imt tilt R-iuii-r will 


jitUfive ill the ilhistnitioii nH tlic evidciicea of a liigh ujiinvciatiou <jf 
tbt idiosyncrasy of tlic iincicut Mtyle, rtltli'm<i:h il will tiot Ik.' siipposud 
that itK R-liul lilt tat idii fur umk'ni tisc haa any sncli liuld u)k)11 thi: 
jK'jnilai' luiiu) us it liiis in Eii^liind. 

I'liitij I'.'i.V allows tlio [ii'iiidpiil fnjitde of a wry nifritDrions imildiiig 
lit Lund, in SufUwi. Lciiviiig ihf n-iidcr ti> ik^'idc fm- liimsflf liuw far 


»lii(1i iri 

liil_'< tli( nt itiit'* 

ui<.]it[(.u iitlici luLriLs 

nviilvt.l in tin- use of a 

Or 111 in sricli dirtrt cnntnist HJlh l\w don I. It-Mo ivy Order 
tlif motive to llic cnnipisilirin. lie «ill eonliiilly acknitw- 
'licli tliu one is \siirked irLto tlie other, not to 
h will be readily discerned. — Eb.] 





r.'t»r t»i. «;roftt 16»«© Catherine II 1762 

<."«tli«r:iM' 1 1725 Paul! 1796 

Ivti-r II 1T27 Alexander ISOl 

Ann*' 1730 NicboIa<« 1825 

Eli/alH'tii 1741 


AxY out' who is aware how (.'orrwtlv and how iiifaUil)lv Architecture 
must expnss tlie fcHihiitrs and aspirations of a i»eople, however they 
may atlt'ni]»l to disiniise them, will of course l)e ])i*ei»ared to exjHJCt, in 
Russia, a hist<HT of the Ait differing in many essential jvarticulars 
from thiit (.»f any of tlie other countries in Fluroix.*. 

Down to the time of Peter the Oretit tlie civilisjition of Russia was 
more rsst-ntially Asiatic than Euroi)ean ; and her Architi*cture was 
that ]>eculiar form of the Mongolic tyix; which has l)een descrilx*d in 
the * Histnrv of Architecture.' ( )cc}isionallv, it is tnie, in later times, 
pilasters and other (juasi-Classical forms were sometimes adopted from 
the St vies nf the Western world : but thev were used without the least 
refereiK'e t<» their meaiiinjr, or to their appropriateness to the situation 
in whirh they were i>lace<l. 

Witli the foundation of St. Peterslmrgh, in 17o:^, a new era com- 
menced. Her rulei's then detennined that Russia should take her 
place amoiiir the nations (►f Euroi>e, and have worked steadily and 
|K>werfully towards the attainment of this object during a century and 
a half. Success has attended their efforts to at least this extent, that 
in St. Petersburgh everything bears outwardly the asj)e<;t of Western 
Enrol K' : and he must have a keen eve who can detect anvthing in her 
Anrhitecture that would lead him to lK.*lieve he was so far north as 
the b;inks of the Neva. an<l nearlv thirtv de^rrees eastward of l^iris. 
Whether this exotic civilisation extends far Ijeneath the surface or 


not remains to l»e swn : and it may well !>e questioned whether it has 
s]»rejul wi<]elv f»ver the empire, or is only eonfinetl within tht* walls «»f 
the modern capital. 

S<j far as can Ik.* crathert-d from sndi data as are availahle. Mc»si^>w 
still diners to her Tartar ft^-linirs, an<l Kifff remains lethanrie. with 
more of the East than the Wfst in her monies <»f thonirht. Hut, though 
the effort may not yet V>e apjKirent, there is a leaven spread nver the 
old Tartar cra^t, which may j>enetr.ite tleejK^-r, and may erentually 
work a chantre : Imt. till it d<x-s s«». the hist^rv of the Euroiiean fonn 
(►f RiLssian civilisation, and of her m<:Mlem Art, miL<t Ik.* chiefly eonfined 
to the ca]»ital. 

In so th«»rouirhly centralised a monan:'hy, the history of the capital 
is generally that of the emi»ire : and, in this res|»ect, St. Petershurgh 
may Ik,* Siiid to Ik.* even more essentially the representative **f m«Hlem 
Russia than Paris is of France. What was dune in the provinces had 
first lK.*en done in St. Petei*sl)urirh. and was ropied with more or less 
exactness as the place wjis nn»re or less renn»le : hut it is only in the 
capital that the series is c'»mplete. and tlie history (»f Ait there 
is the historv of Art lhronirln»ut the leiiLrth and hreadth nf the 

Uufoilunatelv, the Art we tind at St. Petershurirh is. like her 
civilisiiti<»n, essentially exotic. The architects who erected the 
greatest numU'r of Imildintrs were Tressini. Pa<(»relh'. Rossi, (rua- 
renghi, and other Italians. Thomond and Montferrand were French- 
men : and S{x.*ckler and Klenze are (Germans : and though the names 
of one or two Russians do CKrasionally aj»|x*ar on llie list, it is a 
fact that nine-tenths of the huildings of the capital were designed 
and carried out l»y foreigners, and the Russians who designed the 
remaining tenth — if it amounts to so nmch — were onlv tolerateii 
l)e(rause they adopted the principles and copied the details of their 
foreign i nstructoi's. 

It is also a misfoilune for Russia that she l)egan to huild in the 
Italian style just when the art in EurojK?, and esjx'cially in Italy, was 
at the lowest ehh of degradation- -when Horromini and (Juarini had 
contorted evervthing to madness, and men neither could coin- what 
was Ixautiful nor invent anything that was reasonahle. Euro]K.* has 
since attained jjroticiency in the copying branch, and Russia has 
followed slowly in her wake. Had it U*en j)ossil)le for her to have 
worked out her own civilisation, she might ]»i*rliaps have excelled in 
invention, and thus surjnissed the other Euro]>ean nations in the exer- 
cise of true Art. Hut that was not the path she chose, either lK.'cause 
the Russians are not an architectural race, or iK'cause the form of her 
government was su<'h as to repress the develojunent of artistic excel- 
lence on the part of its subjects. Judging from the ex]xrience of 
what thev did from the time oi the foundation of Kieff till the accession 


of PekT the Great, it would ai)i>ear that the first suggestion affords 
tlie tnie sokition of the difficulty.* During- the whole of that long 
jKiriod they did not erect a single building ivmarkahle for constructive 
excellence — though they had always the dome of 8t. Sophia Ix'foiv 
their eyes — nor one showing any true appreciation of the princi])les of 
architectural design. 

It is tnie there is alwavs an amount of hx^l character and fitness 
alx)ut their buildings which pleases, and the decoration is purpose- 
like, even when not lK*autiful. hut in the whole Russian Empire 
there is not an edifice which will stand a moment's comparison with 
the contemjK)rary buildings of "Western Eurojie erecteil during the 
Middle Age ]>eri(Kl. 

In other resi>ects St. Petersburgh is much moi-e fortunately 
circunLstanced for architectural dis]>lay than any of the older cities of 
EuroiKj. When Peter the Oreat determined to found the (capital 
of his vast emj>ire on the banks of the Neva, there was hardly a 
fishemiairs hut to Ikj seen on the spot. It was a desolate, un- 
cultivated ]»lain on the banks of a noble river; but with nothing 
whatever to imjKKle the alignment of his streets, or to prevent his 
planning the new town so as to suit any visions he might have of its 
future greatness. 

The intention of the founder evidently was that the citv slumld 
occupy the islands l>etween the Neva and the Nefka, where the 
fortress stands and his own i)alace st(H)fl. The south side of the river 
was to \ni <K*cupied by the dockyard, and the establishments l)elonging 
to it, these l)eing, in the estimation of l*eter the (Jivat, the most 
im])ortant buildings in the empire. In fact, the object of fixing the 
capital on this spot, was to obtain access to the sea, and to provide 
suitable ivrcommrKlation for the development of the future marine of 
the nation. 

The suix>rior spiUMOUsness of the site on the south side, coupled 
with the difiicidty of (communicating with the rest of the emjiire across 
the river at certain seasons of the year, lc»d to a gnulual abandonment 
of this ])lan. This change further led to the curious anomaly that the 
three great streets dividing the town into four (piarters do not radiate 
from the palace but from the dockyard, which still remains the 
princii)al object on this side of the river, occupying the best and most 
prominent petition. 

Barring this defec^t, the whole plan of the city is judicious and 
noble. The givat river that sweei)s through it, varied with its 
islands, and the canals that intersect it in various directions, i)revent 
anything like monotony arising from its regularity : and the noble 
quays that line the river side, and the s])lendid edifices rising 

' See •History of Aicliitecture,' vol. ii. pp. 350-303. 


ovorvwliciv l)L*hiiid tliem, ^ive to the whole an air of grandeur 
and (lii^niity wliicli — at first sight at least — is unsnrixissed bv any 
. city of Euro J H.'. 

It is onlv when we come to examine a little more closelv these 
uohly phmned edifices that we feel the want of Art shown in their 
exwution, and we are K(x>n satiate<l in conseijuence (»f the endless 
rei»etition i^f the useless and generally inappropriate features which 
form the stajjle of their design. 



It is said there are a thoiisaiul or fifteen huiulred (*lnirches in 
Moscow, while there are hardly one-tenth of that ninnlK.»r in the new 
capital — a discrepancy arisinj^, not from any difference in tlie intensity 
of religious feeling, Imt from tlie circumstance that in Mdscnw the 
churches are mere oratories, as tliey are in all truly Creek cnunnu- 
nities. A cell a few feet scjuare, with a ])icture of the Viririn, is a 
chur(;h Jit Moscow ; and that city [)0ssesses at least four cathednils, 
the largest of which would not suffice for the church of a small parish 
in any other part of PluroiK?. 

At St. Petershurgh, on the other hand, the chun*hes are on the 
Eurojxjan scale, and many of them vie in dimensioiLs with the proudest 
monuments of modern times. 

The oldest chun^h in St. Petei'slmrgh is that erected or Kgun by 
Peter the Great {\t the Citadel. Its phui is that of a Latin Basilica, 
alx)Ut "Jno ft. Umg by loo ft. in width, divided internally into three 
aisles, and presenting no remarkable |)eculiarity insi<le. Externally, 
there is one dome on the roof which suggests its connection with the 
Eastern Church, and at tlie we,st end a tall slender spire, reat^hing a 
height of :>t; 4 ft., a feature iHirrowed from the West ; but in Russia, 
and in this form, especially suggestive of the Neva, for it is not to Ik? 
found anywhere far from its Imnks. The details of the church are 
generally coarse, and more hidly designed than nn'ght Ik.- expected 
from its architect, Tressini, who, as an Italian, even in that (hiy, 
ought to have known how to draw a Doric Onler. 

Had Peter the Great had his own way, every su])Se4Uent church in 
his empire would have l)een a Latin HasiHca like this : and there are 
several of this age in various ])arts of the empire, which are copies 
more or less exar't of this typical edifice. Hut the old Tartar feeling 
wjus not so easilv extinguished ; and when Rastivlli, in 17i>L was called 
upon to design the Smolnoy Monastery, near St. Petersburg!! 0^'oodcut 
No. '2'n), he reverted to the old Muscovite ty]»e, but clothed it in the 
tawdriest finerv of the then fashionable Freinrh school. The chun^h, 
which stands in the centre of a magnificent square formed by the 
monastic buildings, is 245 ft. in length from east to west l)y 10s ft. 



be said for it is, that its five domes are Russian in idea ; but if their 
ornamentation is characteristic of Russian civih'sation in that day, 
'* tant pis pour eJ]e f' It would Ixi difficult to find in Euroix) anything 
so really bad as this. 

Xotwithstanding these defects, it cannot l)e denied that this 
desij^n has some architectunil merit. The church stands well in the 
centre of a great court, suiTounded by buildings which are evidently 
and honestly the residences of the ecclesiastiirs attached to its service. 


The genenil outline of its five domes is pleasing, and they group 
])icturesquely with each other, and with the buildings surrounding 
them : al)ove all, they are Russian, affecting to Ihj nothing but what 
they are, and their truthfulness goes far to redeem most of their other 
defects. It would Ikj a great misfortune if anything similar were to 
Kf done again : but it would Ix; difficult to find a more essentially 
characteristic representation of Russia and her Art at the time this 
ohurch was erected than this fantastii; montustic establishment. 

The rival monastery of St. Alexander Xewski, a little further up 
the river, is one of the few buildings of the capital designed by a 
Russian. His name wiis Staroff, and his design is far more sol)er and 
less objectionable than that just mentioned. The monaster}* was 
erected during the reign of the second Catherine, and the church, 
tliough designed by a native, is a basilica in fonn, 255 ft. long by 
145 ft. across the transepts, the intersection Ixiing covered by a dome 
of Italian design and graceful outhne, (10 ft. in diamet<ir. At the Mest 
end are two towers of rather stunted and ungraceful fonns ; but both 
internally and externally there is more design and a better adaptation 
of |xuts to the whole than in almost any other church in the capital. 
The ])rincipal defects lie in a directly opposite direction from those of 
the church last mentioned. It is neither Russian nor local, but simply 
a UKxlenitely well designed Italian church of its age, such as might 
Im} found in anv citv of Italy. It looks like an Itahan church, 
transixjrted to this phu;e without any assignable reason, and executed 
in ])laster, and, in consequence, loses that amount of meaning whioh 
goes so far to redeem its fantiistic neighbour. 

The ]»lan of the Church of St. Nicholas is worth recording, as it 
is unknown in any other ])art of Europe, tliough found in the Caves 
at Ellora, and in many other buildings in the East. It is simple, but 
affording great variety of ])ersi>ective ; suited to the Greek ritual, 
which is not cor.gregational, and does not re(iuire that the wor8hii)pers 
should either see or hear all that is going on. Had the centre been 
an (K'tagon — as it ought to have been — it might have l)een very 
k'autifnl, and would have lent itself, lK?tt(;r even than it now does, 
to the Hve domes whi(;h crown it externally. The little additional 
width of the centnd arches is hardlv sufficient tf) srive the central 
<lome the predominance which in this class c»f composition it ought 


Elcratlou ol Smolwy ^[aDuterr, St. PtrWnburgli. 

CSAP. ] 



to posM'ss : and, even intornftllr, a more important central point 
wouW have added dignity to the whole. With tliese alteratious, it 
would have Iktoiuc pntetiwilly the same dcBi^ii as onr St, Stephen's, 
Walbrooli. which, for this class of yjlaii, is pcrhnpe the happiest 
nrraii'iement lliat has yt't been carried into effect.' 

Tlie dimensions of this 
chim'h are IH2 ft. each way, 
which, though not lai^, are 
snfficieiu for aruhitcctnral 
effect when pro|ierly used, 
and ai-e very considerable for 
a Rns>iiaii place of worship, 
if nifiisimil liy the stantlard 
of the Middle A^es. 

Till the completion of the 
jtreat (.■IuutIi of St. Iwiac's, 
a few years afro, ttiat of <!)iir 
r^ady iif Kaaan was the prin- 
ci|wl— ill fiict, the eathedral 
— cliun'li (if St. J'ett'rsliun^'h. 
It uiis erected, or nithcr 

tompleted, in firatitiidu for the Uiissian victories from 1«12 to 1H14, 
aixl l>y 11 iiativf architect, Vai'onikiii, 

The siiL{t:estiun of tlie desijrn is taken from St. Peter's at Rome, 
with iis i-ii-cular coloiiiiade : Imt the idea is here uiwd with so much 
fre*.-doni, and tlie whole constnictioii <if tlie plan filn>ws so nnich 
uoveliy. iiK to entitle its author to frrcut credit for originality. 
Alti^'ellier there is [KThajis uo finer ci:nui.'ption for a clmnrh — staTiding 
u little IiiT-k, as thiM one does, on one side of a street — than a ^nd 
semicii'ctilar col<>nna<k-, stretching its uitns forward as if to Invite the 
notaries, and showing! in its centre the well-pro))ortioned dome that 
crowns it.s interset^tion ; while the ikh'c and choir are revealed, though 
scarcely seen, ]»etween the interstices of the iuten-olnmniations. The 
chiiR'h, H.10, is sufficiently lar^'e, lieing i.'ix ft. long over all csteriially, 
and i'lx in width, the dome licliig tii\ ft. in diameter, and •JUO ft. high 

With all these elements of l>eauty, however, the effect is verj- 
consideiably sjioilt l>y the indiJTercnt details, l>oth internally and 
exti-nially. The Coiinthian eoluuins are lanky and wiit-drawn, the 
entahlatuiT lean, and the ornaments iKidly designed and worse exc- 
cutHl. It wits also a soleciHiti to iiiake the pillai^ of the colonnade the 
same in <lesjgn and diinenslinis with those of the iturticoos of the 

> lU outline, in jilan, ia thiit >'ii;:,^r,'iit< d for tlie origiiinl di'Bi^jn of St. PunlV (Wood- 
ciit N'li. IT:i , mill in singalarlv Imppjr, giriiij,' botli slrciiptli atid variety. 
VOL. II. 8 



(;=.-_ — =- 

! n.. ©::-.-o-; ::.ft 

I" : : : ■• . •■ _ 


3. . . 3 aiifl 

V " c:: «f -• .".-«'" ■*> L 

:T^ mMlii;iiSt 


rian of the Cburcb of Our Lady of Kaxan, St. Petersburgh. 

church. Even if it wiis determined they should be of thesiime Oixler, 
which would have been of doubtful propriety, they ou«rht certainly to 
have been subordinated in some way or other. As they now stand, 
they are a mere screen to hide, instead of a [H)rch to di<;iiify, the churt^h 
to which thev are attached. Xotwithstandinji: all these defects. Our 
Lady of Kasan is a ver}' noble church, and its semicinrular iK)rtico a 
feature well worthy of imitation. 

Besides these there are several smaller chuifhes in the ritv, sc»me 
of which show considerable ingenuity in adapting the Classieal style 
to the square forms of the pure Greek Church ; for either the building 
must be low externally, if it is to have a plesising pro]x)ition in the 
interior, or the requisite height for external effect must k* attaincni 
either by a sham dome al)ove the true roof, or by making the interior 
so high as to be out of all propirtion. 

One of these churches, dedicated to St. Catherine, is very similar 


In RItF One, St. Pctmbiicgh. 

tt) Scliinkel's clitiirli at I'lHsiluni. iIcsitIImhI in jiatrc litii', Imt tlie 
pcjrtiif) is luifrt-T ill |iro|Hirti<m to the maw, and, 0(inRi'i|iipntly, fur 
inciri; iilwisinp, and the dinuf, iilw). is IicttiT desifriKM!. Intfrnally its 
hfijrlil is tim STfat, Iwiiig l:*ii ft,, thu ivhole iir'h "f thu cliiiR'h 
external)}- litinfr only Hm ft. by liiii ; but it h on thi' wh-k- ii vm- 
Bimiilc and |iieitstti^ (icRign. 

The Cliurch ZHiuieiiic is n Bqiian" of liJfi ft. ciwh way. ivitli u 
reccBStd (lorttco of two (lillare hi tniti* on thrw; of its faws, niid the 
whole is simply .ind eU'frantly dwigiied : while, it» lieiyht externally 
beiDg only 112' ft., its interim- is not ancrificed to externa! effect. 

There is a thini and more eU-oflnt chureh, known ns that of the 
"Greeks," nr of the Rite (Jivc (WockIchI Xo. 20"), vhicli is more 
elaborate than either of these, and. iT its base had Ix^u a httle more 
spread, would have formed a pleasing mo<k-l for a larfrer ehnrch, 
thoujfh liere again the internal hoi^'ht ib ton <rreat for its other 

Still, the mode in which the four angle towers are wovke<i into the 
composition liy the npi)er colonnades, and the bold manner in wliicli 
light is introducetl by four great semicircular windows immediately 
under the dome, are all features wliich might be employed in snch 

" H 2 


compositions with success, and sliow liow easily the Russians miglit 
obtain heautiful churches in tliis style by only settlinjr on some 
well-understood tyjK.', and Wing content to ehiborate it, instead of 
rushing alx^ut looking for fresh models for eyery new building they 
propose to erect. 

It is certainly to be re^^retted that some such system has not been 
adopted in reference to the designs for the great Church of St. Isaac ; 
for, although it is one of the largest and most exix3usiye churches in 
modern Euro^x? — although the materials employed iu its construction 
are unsurpassed for lx.*auty and richness, and its situation is unriyalled, 
yet it must Ini confessed that the result is most unsatisfactory, and 
chat half its adyantages haye l)een thrown away from the want of 
sufficient skill on the part of the aix'hitect to enable him to ayail 
himself of them. 

The site on which the Cathedral of St. Isaac stands seems from 
the lirst to have been destined to l)e occupied l)y the princii)jil firchi- 
tectural monument of the city. It is a magnificent place, extending 
alnrnt (Joo vards from the river's bank, with an ayerai]:e width of more 
than 2oo v ;rds : l)onnded, at the Quay, l)y the Admiralty on one hand 
and the Senate House on the other : while, at the spot where the 
church stands, the Riding School, with its beautiful ix)rtico, and on 
the other side tlie War Office, sup [>ort it, without interfering with its 
architectural efl'eet. 

Three chn relies have already stood on this spot : — first, a wooden 
one, nearly coeval with the city. This was re})laced ))y one designed 
by Renaldi, of great pretensions, connnenced during the reign of the 
second Catherine: but, K'ing left unfinished, was remodelled on a 
smaller and less ex})ensi\ e scale by the Emi)eror Paul, who completed 
and dedicated it to Divine worshij). ^ 

The church thus erected was far from beinij commensurate with 
the dignity of the site, or of sufficient impoitance to be the cathedral 
of such a city as St. IVtersburgh had become. 

In conse'iuence of this the Em[»eror Alexander determined on 
rei)lacing it by a building which should not only be worthy of the 
situation, but should rival the finest churches of modern Europe in 
extent, and suri)ass them in riehness of decoration. 

After \arious attempts to j>rocure satisfactory designs in other 
(piarters. he at last, in the year isis. confided its execution to a French 
architect, the Chevalier do ^lontferrand. He superintended its con- 
struction during the next forty years, lived to see it completed, and 
to assist in its dedication in l.s.')S, th(»ugh he died yery shortly 

The church itself is a rectanirle. measurins: ^lo.") ft. east and west, 
by l{){\ north and south : and, including the four great i>oitic(K^s, coyers 
an area, ac-ording to the architect's calculation, of i)H,H^D ft. It is 


therefore Ini^-r tban tlic Paiitlifoii at I'nriB (whitrh coiituiur: i;ii,iM7 ft.), 
thoiigli ciitisi()erul>ly Hiiiallcr tliiiii St, I'linra, wliieli (Minors x.l.iii'."i ft. 

Of its anja IJ^.StH ft., or iifnifidcraMy iimre than uiii-foiirth. is ikth- 
piod by tlic pijiiits of sii|i])iirt : mi Hint, l(K>ke(l at fnuii !i o instructive 
point "f view, St. Isaat^'s staiuls Imvur thim any utin't- cliunli in 
Euixtpe, as will \k aeeii by tlie followiufr tai)le, showiiiL' tbi.- iiuiiiljer of 
feet ill eiicli Idiiit fif their areii (Ktupiwl in tbi; dimi-ln's sjiwitied 
by tile piiititB of i<n[i|<ort, this tiilile Iniii^ eoin]iilc(l by tlie lut'liitett 
himself : — 

Bt. Iwinu'd 2<>«! f , i 

8t iVliyii, Knwe . . .. 2«l „ 

I'auUieuii, Uoiiiu .. .. 'iH^ „ ., St. litiievil-vi, Purio .. 
Si. Sophin. 0>tMliititlno]>U'-JIT ., „ ^c. Si]l[>t<v, Piiris . 
St. Slnria, t'U.ri'nc-o . . 201 „ ,. ' N..lw Dntiiv. Pnrie 

Ami, ikH shnivii lH.-ft)rc,' luauy uf th<; (intliic buildiiif.'s i-nn 
lis lOO ft. in 11)111), or in other iviirds cmly niie-tentli <.)' 
occii|iiiil by the jioints of Hiipport. Tlius a (luthli' an-hi 
Inr^i' a porLicm nf his buiUli)iir a])]inip)iateil Ui i>jk-)i |"ir 
ccrbtiiily not liave consumed itiiu'u tbuii onc-thinf of Llie it 

■ iff iis low 
n.'ir aifa is 

■s, wonid 
iais iLsed 

' ■Hialiiry r)f Arcliil 


hvTV : uiiil i-vt:ii in tlif Itiiiiuu stvlc tlii; fxiH-TitiuT nf iIk' liost arclii- 
tecis sliiuvs that one-half of t]w i|Uitnlity oii'ilit to liiive sufficed. 
Lookinj; ill tiit; unstiibk iianire 'if liis fiiiiiifhiiioiis, itiid thy tiiormtnis 
ex[)en!ic- inrunvd iu stfiirin^' [ht-iii, i-ciiiKUiiy of iiuitfriLiI, invapu-ctive 
of txi*.-niH.-, uuglit to hiivu lH.i.'n fsjiL-cially stiulidi in tliis iustauce. 
Tliis wiiiit iif (.iiiistniL-tivi.- skill is, Ikiwuvit, (klri mental, not only in 
this resju'i-i. 1ml. in ei'iisi.'i|nenee of it. the area iiitenially is 80 
crrjwih.-il as to lose half its effii't, while eMeniiilly the buildiDg la 
heavy lieymiil all ]inx'i'deut. 

The iiatiiiv iif the situation rei]uiivs that the iirincii«l eutmnce 
shonlcl k' lateral, as orii-ntation, east ami west, is more stron^lj- in- 
sisiv.l Ti|-in in tlie Ihvek Chim-h than evi-n in that of Xoitliern Europe ; 
ami. U'sicks this, Alexamler in ciuiHiliiiL' the ilesijrn to tije arehiieot 
iwiticiilarly insisted that tlic ihive ehajHils of (.'atherine's church, 
whidi had heen eoiis,,emted. shouM U- |nvsened. Xothiug therefore 
eoidd In- in-tler tliai. the i-onceiiiii.n of jiliicini; heiv a nolik Corinthian 
yHiriieii, eojiied almost litefally, liut with simieiviiat increaseti diincn- 
sioiis, from that of the Pantheon at I'.ome, Having done this, however, 


it was absurd to place an equally grand portico of sixteen columns on 
the opposite face, which, from its situation, must always be the back 
of the church. At all events, if this was done, it was indispensable 
that the western front, which is, and alwa}'s must be, the principal 
entmnce, should at least have one equally magnificent ; instead of 
this, we find only a shallow porch of eij^ht pillars. But the worst 
feature of the design is that a similar portico is placed at the east end, 
wheixj there could not possibly be an entrance. This was the more 
gratuitous, as in order to do it the architect was obliged to remove the 
ajise of the central chapel of the old church, and supply its place by a 
flat wall with a single wiudow in it ; thus not only destroying the 
effect internally, but at the same time taking away all the meaning of 
the design, as seen externally. Had he left the apse, and ooiitted his 
eastern ]X)rtico altogether, the design would have been infinitely 
lietter ; but the right thing to have done would have been to l^end liis 
colonnade round the apse, and thus give it a dignity commensurate 
with the lateral jx)rticoes. 

Forgetting for the moment the misiipplication of these jwrticoes 
thev are bv far the finest that have been erected since the time of the 
Romans. Each of the forty-eight columns which compose them is a 
single pitnre of tlie most Ixjautifnl rose-coloured granite, 56 ft. in 
height, and (> ft. (> in. in diameter. Those of the Pantheon at Rome 
are only 47 ft. ;'> in. Of this length, however, 7 ft. is covered by the 
bronze capital, and 2 ft. (> in. by a base, also of that metal, which 
reducers wliat can l)e seen of the height of the monolith to 45 ft. (J in., 
which is still however considemblv in excess of the shaft of the Roman 
example. The entablature, iis indeed the whole building, is faced with 
marble : and internally the grand porticoes aiv roofed by a great arch 
in the centre and a flat roof over the latent bays. All this is very 
noble ; but the effe<;t of these ])Oilicoes is painfidly destroyed by an 
enormous double attic, half the height of the whole Order (71 ft,), 
placed thei-e to hide the ro<.)f of the building, but which dwarfs the 
columnar ordinance to an extent hardly conceivable. There are many 
ways in which this could have been avoided. The proper one of 
course would have been to show the roof honestly, and render it orna- 
mental, than which nothing could have been e^isier : but even if the 
attic had l)een broken into anta;, with oi)enings l)etween, so as to look 
like ]Kirt of the roof, it would not have destroyed the effec^t of the 
poiti(r(x*s as it now d(K's. 

The attic lijis the further defect of preventing the connection 
lK.*tween the dome and the substructure of the church Ixjing seen. The 
dome scorns to stand on the roof, or to l)e thrust through it ; whereas, 
had the roof of the four porches been carried back to its scjuare l)ase, 
the whole would have l)een at once constructively intelligible. 

The dome itself is very similar externally to that of the l^antheon 



at Pans except that m the peristyle considerable confusion iri^e* from 
there being only tweUe great openin<^ behind twenty fotii ei{Ui(listant 
oolumtiB and as tht windows are widtr than the iiitercoliinimations, 
the effect ib not pleasing, especmllv as again there are twtiitr-four 
window? in the attic But tioth these domes want the sohdit^ and 
shadow which are guui at St Paul shy the mtroduttiou rf theught 
masses containing the staircases 

Tlie pillars of ttii. peiistvie of the 
donit. of St IsaaL B Chnnli are mono- 
hths of red granite liXt those of the 
porticoe**, but onl) 4J fc in heiglit, 
bast and capital inchtded, uid of a less 
pro[)ortionut<. diiiiiKtei 

Thi. wholt of tht c instructivt jwrte 
of thL doiiiL, witJi tlic ] winch it 
siippoiii' ire of cast or Hion.'hc iron , 
an e\[>LdiLiit that leinii ju^tihalile in 
snih a nine a» it i» oni. whah, if 
proiH.riv Used might Ix midc a« dur- 
nbk as an> eijualh lofCv <-tniLture 
»holl} of inasnnn (onld ]>0hS]bK Iw 
wink thtrt !•> ^tit dilhinln in mn- 
stnntin^ tlit. ciirMd ]iai1 of a doiiii 
ivtciiiilh in fitoiR ill mkIi I nianner 
that it shall U. --tilik and at the same 
tiiiK ] k (■■iiu m (JiitliiK I nfoitn- 
uatilj thL iron Hork hiu iifcd tliowB 
IS liitk (onstniiti\L --kill i^ tlii. other 
\-iiirt* (if tilt bnildinj; throiuhout the 
whok of ttlitth thin, i- a '{U<intity 
of ( iht ind wrotuht iion tiin^ and 
bnunucmjilotcd which not unl^ allows 
that the nu^'>eK iin. liadh jioiseil m the 
hrst mstaiici. hit would Lnsuiic their 
de^tniction if tlic in- 
fluence*, should eii-r reach thim 

A good deal of this mi<;ht ha^ebeeii 
excusable if the arcliittx't had Vvn 
attempting to erect a building as pro- 
jxirtionately light as those of the 
(iothie age : but iis he was using more 
materials tlmii liave ever lieeii emplovud since the days of the Egyp- 
tians, it indicates an imjmrdoi table degree nf iiiiskil fulness on his [wrt. 

Bc'Sides the great dome there are the four ciipollni, or l>ell-to«i'r8, 
which are nsimlly found in Russian chiiR'hes. These are uiiobjectioii- 

Ihp Dome ofSil. I«iimc> 


able in design, and arc each again adorned with eight monolithic 
columns, in this case 27 ft. in height. There is still a fourth 
Order of columns, adorning the four windows that admit light into 
the interior ; but these are only 20 ft. high, including base and 

These windows form one of the great mistakes of the design. They 
are ordinary sash windows, such as are used in Domestic Architecture, 
and the eye inevitably guesses their width at 4 or 5 ft., their height 
at 8 or 10 : and they form the scale according to which the whole 
church is measured. It requires an immense effort to realise the fact 
that they are really 10 ft. wide, and more than 80 ft. high, and that 
the little columns on brackets which support their entablatures are 
really grand monohths 20 ft. high ! Besides this, a building with 
only four windows, — the three beneath the eastern portico are not 
sup|X)sed to be seen or known, — cannot appear of large dimensions ; 
and the mind inevitably brings it down to the scale of those other 
structures for which a similar numlxjr of oj)ening8 would suffice. 

As remarked above, the same dwarfing effect is produced in St. 
Peter's by the enormous size of the Order employed, the fewness of the 
parts, and gigantic character of the sculpture ; but in that instance 
there is a multiplicity of detail and overcrowding of ornament which 
to a certain extent i^estores the eciuilibrium of dimension when the 
eve l)ecomes familiar with it. St. Isaac's has nothintr of the kind — it 
is only a small church magnifie<l : and if erected on one-third or one- 
fourth the scale it now occupies, would have l)een a far more appro- 
priate desijrn. In fact, from whatever |>oint of view it is looked 
at, it must Ik.^ admitted that in no building, either ancient or modern, 
has so nmch l)een done to destroy in apj>earance the really noble 
projK)rtioiLs which it possesses. 

Internall}, the great nave is 43 ft. in width and 98 ft. high, being 
made up, first, of an Order f)! ft. high, crowned by an attic measuring 
21 ft., and then the vault, which, being a little stilted, makes up 26 ft. 
The great dome measures only 71 ft., or in diameter internally httle 
more than half that of St. Peter's or the cathedral at Florence ; while 
St. Paul's measures 108 ft., and the Pantheon at Paris 05. But even 
these dimensions would suffice were it not that the whole floor of the 
building is so crowded with the masses of constniction that there are 
no cross j;KTsi>ectives of any l)eauty, or ix)etry of any sort. It is as 
rich as malachite and marble combined with sculpture and painting 
can make it ; no expense hiis Ijeen spared ; but a little, even a ver}' 
little, taste, or even a little constructive skill, would have been of 
more value than the whole of this magnificence. So far, indeed, has 
it been carried, that nothing saves the (;hurch from contempt but the 
grandeur of the materials of which it is comj)osed ; or from the charge 
of vulgarity and bad taste, except the literalness with which its jiarts 


are borrowed from Roman examples, and the small niiml:>er of tliem 
which make up the whole design. 

It must always Ixj a subject of infinite regret that so noble an 
enterprise as the erection of this church should have lx^en intnisted to 
a man so little competent to the task tvs the Chevaher de ^lontferrand 
seems to have Ixien. With so lavish an exjjenditimj and such noble 
materials placed at his disix>sal, any man who had carefully studied 
the works of previous architects ought to have iHinefited by their ex- 
perience ; and with a little common sense, even without genius, might 
have produced the most beautiful cathedral in Europe. As it Ls, a 
great opportunity has been lost, and, in s])ite of its splendour, St. Isaac's 
is at best a grand, but a cold and unsatisfactory failure. Not only is 
there less poetr}', but there is less (.constructive skill shown in the 
design of this church than that of any other of the great domical 
churches of EurojK'. It is imjM^ssible to conceive a building carried 
out with less thought, or less ap})reciation of the l)eauties of the style 
in which the architect wiw called u}X)n to design it. 

It would Ik? a fair morning's work for an architect of ortlinary 
ability to sket(;h out the four fayades of this great building : and there 
certainly is not a week's thought in the whole design, from the lave- 
ment to the cross on the top of the dome. And he nuist l)e a greater 
genius than the world has yet seen whose ivtvtsing thoughts are worth 
one thoiLSiindth juirt of the money that has lx?eu sjH.'nt on them here. 
At the same time there is scarcely a single constnictor of (Hilinary 
experience who would not have put together the materials placed at 
his dis})OStil far more skilfully and economically than has iKHin done 
by the Chevaher de Montfernmd : who, considering the (»piH)rtunitie8, 
can perhaps lay claim to the unenviable distinction of having lieen 
the author of the greatest aix'hitectunil failure in m<Klern times. 

<:hap. IL RUSSIA : SECULAR. 267 



There is no city in Europe which more truly deserves to \yc called 
a city of palaces than St. Petersbur^h — not even excejitiii^ Paris ; for 
though that city may l)e infinitely richer in architectural Ijeauties, the 
true expression of Paris is more Civic and Domestic than Palatial ; 
while St. Petersburgh not only contains some half-dozen of imperial 
residences, or ]>alaces proi)erly so called, but many of the residences 
of her grand-dukes and nobles are fairly entitled to that api)ellation : 
more than this, all her institutions and public establishments, down 
even U) the barracks of the guanis, are designed on a scale of magnifi- 
cence not found elsewhere : and they are ornamented as only jmlaces 
are, in other cities. It is tnie that nianv — indeed most of these — are 
only of brick, with ornaments of stucco : and the meanness of material 
detracts most seriously from the grandeur of effect when looked closely 
into, but the general result is im|K3sing ; while so large a mass of im- 
]M)rtant and ornamental buildings l)eing (collected together, gives to 
the city an air of grandeur not seen elsewhere ; and, though the details 
may be cavilled at, the general effect is uncjuestionably grand and 

The principal palace of St. Peterslmi-gh, as well as the oldest — for 
the residence of Peter the Orent hardly deserves that name — is that 
known as the Winter Palace, built by the Emjjress Elizalwith from the 
designs of Rnstrelli, and commenced in the year 1754. The two 
principal halls — that known as St. George's, and the White Hall — 
were added by Ouarenghi, and the whole of the interior has Ixicn 
remodelled and refitted after the fire in 18,S7 ; which seems to have 
gutted the building, but unfortunately did not damage the outer walls 
to such an extent as to re(inire their Ixiing pulled down, and the whole 
to l)e rebuilt from the foundations. 

The principal fa<^4ide, towards the river, measures 7;^1 ft. in 
length ; while the depth of the ]»ilace, north and south, is 5X4 ft., 
and it is thus considerably larger than the Louvre. Internally, it 
enclose^s a rectangular court of somewhat broken outline, but gene- 
rally 385 ft, east and west by 800 ft. north and south ; which is less 



tlutn tlmt of the Louvre, in consequence of the buildings covering 
a much <rr(.-ater ar«a of '.Tonnd than in the Parisian example. 

Witli thi'se dimensions, in snch a sitnation, and with the amount 
of iiriirtun.tii liivi^hed njxiii it, this ought to have been one of the most 
l>eaiitifnl inilat-es of Europe : but the details are so painfully bad, that 
the elT(it is entirely tlironu away ; and a man of taste recoils in 
homir from smli a piece of barl»roiis majniificence. 

Tile two upper storeys are adorned with an Order meant for 
Corinthian, iiut so liadly drawn and profiled that it may be anything. 
The architrave is broken into a cune over every window, and the 


= ir^^ff --'-■. , 1. JF^^^ji 




PoiIlaD g( lb« T'fuit of 

eurnice is iiUo treated in the same manner occasionally ; over this are 
pediments. — not connect(.'d with the coniice, — and the whole is 
crowned with vases, statues, and rococ'o ornaments of various sorts. 

The )>asi.'inerit has also an Order called Ionic, but, running through 
only one storey, is smaller of course than tJie other. Yet tlie luge 
columns occasionally stand on the huiuls of the smaller, though occa- 
sionally, toil, they avoid them in a manner t>'liich is almost Indicrons. 
Add to this tlmt the dressings of the windows are of the most 
grotesi|iie and (^iiifrerliread chamcter, and it may l>e understood how 
Ixid die tastu is which pervades this iwlacc. 

The palace of Zarco Zelo, about fifteen miles south of St, Peters- 

Chaf. IL 


biii^h, on the road to Moscow, is another example of the same ukss. 
With a fafode 858 ft. in extent, and nearly 70 ft. in lici^ht, most 
richly ornamented, it is difficult to understand how jt should U' so ■ 
wholly detestable as it is ; but with all its pretensions it can hardly 
be considered as more than a great barrack, decked out in the tawdry 
finery of the style of houis XIV. 

The palace of the Hermitage, bmlt by a German of tJie name of 
Volckner for Catherine II„ as an adjunct to the Winter Palai-e. cer- 
tainly avoided most of the defects of its more ambitious neighlionr, bnt 
rather erred by falling into tbe opposite extreme of tanieness and com- 
monplitce. It is now, however, bein^; pulled down to msku way for 
the Palace dea Beaux Arts, erecting from the designs of Kleiize, 
referred to further on. 

Ill ]>ukc Mklue], M. IVttisliirijb. 

The Tauride Palace, erected by VolkolT, a[ipiiTeiitly in iinitHtion of 

the Trianon at Versailles, is ii <rna^t stragglinfi ont-stoR'ved buiUliiiji. 
with as little meaning, and without the elcgauL-e of its jirototyjie. It 
is now deserted as an imperial residence ; uud the Palace of Piuil I. is 
turned into an engineer's school, though really deserving a letter fate. 
It is a square building 34<i ft. by »7x ft., with an octagonal court in the 
centre : and great ingenuity is shown in the mode in which the external 
and iuternal lines are fitted to one another, giving the internal arrange- 
ments a degree of variety so seldom found in the onlinary i-ectangulur 
palaces of Buro|)e. Some of the rooms, too. are richly and t'\en beauti- 
fully adorned ; und the aifhitectnre of the whole, if not of the highest 
class, is at least jileasing and reasonable. 

Though the Palace of the Archduke Srichael cainmt rival the 
Imperial Palace in extent, yet it is by far the most licautifnl and 
elegant structure of its class in St. Petersbiuvh. It was c'omnieiic'etl in 
the year 11*20, from designs by the Italian, Uossi. By ixlcgating 


all tlie offices and domestic bnildinfts to the wings, wliich cover a 
preiiltr extent of 8iirfa(;u Clian the main IkmIv, tlie palace acquires 
. a gtiitcly and inoimniental apiicaraiicc, sometiuieB seen in a clnh or 
edifice wholly devoted to fuatal pnrjtoses, but seldom found in a 

The central block, 3C4 ft. wide, with a depth of lfi«, and a height 
of H? from the ground to tlie top of the pediment, is divided prac- 
ticallj into two storeys ; the lower, 22 ft. in height, elegantly and 
a]»jii-o]matL'ly rusticated ; the upper, ornamented with a very teautiful 
Corinthian Order, is ii ft, in bciglit. Ou Uie garden front the central 
colonniule of twelve pillars stands free, as in tbe Garde Meuble of the 
Place de la Concorde, Paris ; but more l>eautiful than that, inasmuch 
as the liasomcnt is far l)etter proportioned, and there is only one range 
of windows uuder them, while the wings are much more imiwrtant in 
the northern example ; and the columns in these, Iving semi -attached, 
give a solidity to the external parU that supjiorts most effectively and 
pK-asingly the more o[>eu design of the centre. Indeed, taken alto- 

2B11. Elevttltuu, Uur.loB Fnnil "t Ihe P^lnw u( tlie 'irJinl Hull. Mleh.pI. Sunt Sale ta P1»1l 

gether, t!ie Slichaeloffsky I'alace may Iw considered its one of the most 
successfnl desijins of its eliiss in modern Euri)[)e. It may l»e a question 
if too much is not sftcriliced to the Onler, and whether a more sub- 
ordinate employment of it would not ha\e prwlucfd a ln-tter effect ; 
liut if employed at all, it is a great triumph to its designer to have 
used it so corrc'ctly and so sue^^.'ssfully iis he has done here. The 
internal arraugi'nieuts of the pidace are on a sciile coiresjsinding witli 
the nijurnificeiice of the exterior. The entnnioe-hall, couLainiiig the 
great staircase, is a square apartment, S(i ft. t^acli way, the whole 
height of the building, and lends tci a suite of apartments not prosaic- 
ally like one another, hut, tlmngb varied in form and jiosition, of equal 
and ^us^Jliued niagnificenee. 

As liefore n.-marked. it is singularly indicative of the purpose which 
Peter the ("ireat had in view, that tlie Hix'kyanl slmuld tx«npy the 
very centre of tbe t()Wii, starid-ing lietweun the Palace and the Senate 
House ; bnt stilt more singular that the talents of a Russian architect 

Crap. n. 



shonld )iave bwii able to coavcrt the ntilitariaii building of an arsenal 
iut4) un arcliitGctnral monameut worthy of the promiiieDt position tbia 
building (icca[He8. 

The principal facade of the "Admiralty," as it is improperly 
termed, measures litSil ft. ; the rctnrna towards the river, »Si ; and 
the ttven^ height alwut CO ft. It would not !« easy to propose 
dimensioiifl which it would be so difficult to treat without monotony, 
or without inappropriate littleness, as these ; but the task liae been 
performed with stu^ular success by Zncharoff, the architect employed. 
The centre of the Ibuger face is occupied by a square block, pierced by 

PonlDDortlK Utcnl Ftfidcof lb« Admlnltf. St. PMcnbotgh. 

tJie (ieiitml archway, but withont pillars. It is surmounted by a 
stjuai-e (ni]Kiln — if snch a term is admisKritlc — crowned by a tall Russian 
Bjiire reacliiiig a heifflit of 240 ft. On either side of the entrdncc, for 
a distance of 2r)ii it., the building is only two storejTi high, and pierced 
with (inly flcveu wiiidovra in each storey, of remarkably lx>ld design. 
lieyiiiid these are two wings, ea(;li coniixised nf three l>'ild Doric porti- 
c<vi. the I'ditnil one of twelve, and the two lateral i>neM of sis ixilnmns 
eai-li — the only defw* of these Iwing tliat there are two storeys of 
wiiidows iiTider eii(;li of these iiortiiw;8 ; and one cannot help regret- 
ting that tlie jiillars were not used where the building was only two 


storeys, and the portion three storeys high placed towards the centre, 
where a comparative weakness would not have been felt. 

The returns are similar in composition to the longer face, and 
equally successful. The Avhole is so much of a piece, so bold, and so 
free from littleness or bad taste, that, for a building of its class, it may 
challenge comparison with anything existing in Europe, or indeed in 
the world. 

On the other side of the Neva, opposite to the " Admiralty," stands 
the Bourse, which is also a successful design, though not to l)e com- 
pared with the other. It consists of a hall 157 ft. long by 82 ft. wide, 
lighted from the roof, and from a lx)ld semicircular window at each 
end. Around this hall are arranged thi'ee storeys of chamlxjrs, devoted 
to the various purposes of the building. Round the outside is a i)eri- 
style of ten colunms on the fronts, and fourteen on the flanks, count- 
ing those of the angle twice ; but they do not reach the roof, or 
attempt to hide it ; and on the whole, though similar in conception, 
and designed by a Frenchman (Thomond), the building is far l^etter 
and more successful in every respect than the Paris Bourse ; standing, 
as it does, on an angle between two rivers, it makes uj), with its 
accomjianiments, a very l>eautiful architectural group. 

By far the greater number of the reuiaining buildings of St. Peters- 
burgh are designed on the siinie i)rinoiples as those on which we design 
Regent's Park Teri^aces, or Marinas at our seaside watering-places. 
They almost invariably have a basement storey, nisticated according 
to certain received patterns, and, alx>ve this, two storeys of e(jual 
dimensions, adorned with a |x)rtico in the centre, of six, eight, or 
twelve pillars standing on the basement, and nuining through the 
two upper storeys. On either side of this there is a plain sj^ce, broken 
only by windows, and at each end a i)ortico similar to that in the 
centre, but having two pillars less in extent. Nothing can l)e easier 
than to design buildings according to this reciiK?, the result of which 
is undoubtedly imposing and effective at first sight ; but no one ever 
returns to such a building a second time to try and read the thoughts 
of the architect who designed it, to imbue himself with his principles. 
No one ever dreams of revisiting these flat and monotonous masses at 
various periods of the day, or mider different atmospheric changes, to 
study those effects of light and shade which render a tnily thoughtful 
building an ever-varying scene of l)eauty — one the l)eholder never can 
be sure he has wholly seen, and regarding which he is never siitisfied 
that he has mastered all the depths of thought which j>ervaded the 
setting of every stone. 

Notwithstanding this it cannot l)e denied that such a building as 
the fitat Major is a noble and imix)sing pile. It is the joint produc- 
tion of Rossi and Ouarenghi ; and has an immense recessed amphi- 
theatrical cur\e in its middle, in the centre of which is an aivhway 

Chap. II. RUSSIA : SECULAR. 273 

65 ft. in diameter, and 68 ft. in height. It extends more than 1200 ft., 
measnred along the chord of the arc, and with a height of 76 ft. 
throughout ; while it may l)e added that, though there is no very great 
amount of genius, there is also no symptom of vulgarity or bad taste 
in the design. With such dimensions as these, a building can hardly fail 
to be a grand and imposing pile ; but the merit, such as it is, is due to 
the sovereign who ordered its erection, and not to the architect who 
designed it. 

The same remarks apply to the Institution des Demoiselles Nobles 
by Guai-enghi ; that of Military Orphans ; the Barracks of the " Che- 
valier Gardes ; " and of the various corps of Guards and Cadets — all 
gigantic piles of bnck and stucco, designed with a certain grandeur of 
conception, but executed with the most commonplace details ; and, 
though all contributing to the magnificence of the city they adorn, 
none of them worthy of commendation as works of Art. 

The Academy of Beaux Arts, designed by a Russian architect 
(Kokorin), is a square, 46() ft. by 400 ft., with the usual porticoed 
fa9a(le externally, but ])ossessing internally a circular courtyard of 
considerable l)eauty. The Library, also by a Russian (Tokoloff), is 
an elegant building in the style of our Adams ; but its most wonderful 
charactenstic Ls that an edifice 2;")2 ft. long, by r>0 ft. wide, can be 
madt* to contain upwards of 4(»0,()()0 volumes, besides a large collection 
of manuscripts, reading-roouLs, &c. We could not put half that number 
into one of the same cubic contents. 

Of the smaller buildings, perhaps the Medical School, by Porta, is 
the most elegant. Nowhere, except in the Archduke Michael's Palace, 
are the Orders used wi'Ax such j^ropriety. 

The ** Riding Houses" are a feature which, if not peculiar to 
Russian Architecture, have at least, owing to the peculiarities of the 
climate, lx*en carried to a greater extent there than anywhere else. 
The great Riding House at Moscow was long famous all over Europe 
for the width of the span of its roof, and the mechanical ingenuity 
shown in its construction. The si)an of the original roof was to have 
l)een 28.') ft.,^ but it is very doubtful if it was ever attempted to carry 
it out, and a less ambitious design was afterwards adopted. Guaren- 
ghi's Riding House at St. Petersburgh is only 86 ft. span, and is more 
remarkable for a very beautiful Doric portico of eight columns at one 
end, and the general purity and elegance of the design of the whole, 
than for its mechanical ingenuity. That of the 2nd Corps of Cadets, 
by an architect of the name of Charlemagne, though rather according 
to the usual recipe, still, from l)eing only one storey in height, is 
among the most pleasing fa9ades in the capital. 

* Five feet It ss than the span of the roof of the St. Pancras Station of the Midland 



Besides the buildings jiist enumerated, the Bank, the Foreign 
OflBce, and the War Office, each possess some pecuHaritj of design, or 
some different arrangement of their pillars, which is more or less effec- 
tive, but which it is almost im]x>ssil)le to exj)lain without drawings ; 
and none of them certainly are worthy of a place among the illustra- 
tions to be selected for such a work as this. They are, in fact, all of 
the same type of machine-made designs, displaying a cerU\iu amount 
of taste, and a certiiin appreciation of the beauties of Classical Art, 
but never rising to originality, and never displaying that amount of 
thought indis[>ensal)le to adapt the ornaments to the essential featm-es 
of the building to which they are applied ; and without which, it need 
hardly be rej)eated, success in architectural design is nearly, if not 
wholly, impossible. 

It is rather singular that among all the buildings of 8t. Peters- 
burgh there is not one that can l)e calleil ** astylar." Everywhere and 
in every one we find Corinthian, Ionic, or Doric columns, while there 
is scan'ely a single instance where they are wanted, either for the 
constniction or the convenience of 'the building to which they are 
attached ; while, if in any city in the world their presence could he 
dispensed with, it is in one situated in such a latitude. In the climate 
of Russia a bold, plain, massive fa(;ade, de{>ending on its breaks for 
its effect, and on the grouping and dressings of its ojKMiings for its 
ornament, would Ixj infinitely more apjn-opriate : and a l)old, deep 
cornicione, in sucli a nortlicrn climate, at all seasons, would Ix? the 
most artistic as well as the most appro] jriate termination to a facade. 

It is strange that, wlicru a style is so essentially im|H>iled and so 
exotic, no one ever thouglit of Florence or of Rome ; and that Vicenza 
and Palis should alone ha\e furnished to St. Petei*sburgh mcniels of 
things which even these cities had only obtained at second liand.^ 

* I have been told by those who have been unable to obtain any drawings or 
Bteu them, that the miite of apartuients dimensions that would enable me tojudge 
destine<l for public festivities which have , how far this dt&cription is cornet. In so 
recently been erected in the new Palace i far as the new palace can be judj^ of 
of the Kremlin, at Moscow, surpasses , from photographs, it hjis, externnljy, no 
anything of the same kin<jl in Europe for j pretensions lo architectural excellence of 
splendour and extent. I have, however, any sort. 




The new Museum of St. Petershurji:!! is the only important building 
which hiis yet been erected in Russia in the new Revival style of 
Architecture. It is of course by a foreiji^ner ; but this time no less a 
personaj^e tlian the Baron Leo \ou Klenze of Munich. It seems that 
the Emi)eror Nicholas, in visiting that capital, in ISJJH, was so pleased 
with what had l)een done there that he inviteil the Baron to St. Peters- 
burgh, and commissioned him to make designs for the new Palace of 
the Alts he pro|X)sed to substitute for the (►Id Hermitage Galleries of 
Catherine II. 

The site chosen was one of the finest in the citv, on the Uinks 
of the Neva, adjoining the Winter Palace on the eastwaixl. The 
building, which m now completed, measures 4Ho ft. from the river to 
the Million Street, and i^oO ft. towards the river, divided internally 
into two courts by the ])icture. gallery that nnis across it. One of 
these courts is jMirtially (X'cupied by the gmnd staiix?ase, the other is a 
void. Externally, eiK-li of the four fa(;e8 differs somewhat in comix)- 
sition, thongh all treated with the siiuie ciire. Where it has two 
storeys, it reaches GO ft. in height ; where three, it attains 84 ft. to 
the to]) of the balustrade or coping. In the centre of the longer faces 
the ajHjX of the pediment is 98 ft. from the imvement. These dimen- 
sions are (juite sufficient for architectural effect, and it must be added 
that the building is wholly free from those falsehoods of design which 
ruin so many fine structures, e8])ecially those of this ca]>ital. The 
Imsement is plain and solid, the Order confined to the princiiwl storey, 
and above this is only an attic, ornamented with antae and jalasters. 
Each storey is complete in itself, and thn)ughout there is that exiiui- 
site finish and Iniautv of detail which characterises Oreek Art, and 
which, witliin certain limits, the Munich art^hitects have learned to 
apply with su(?h dexterity. The faults of design arise from the 
trammels which the an^hitect has thought it necessarj' to imjKwe upon 
himself while designing in this style. The first is the jminful want of 
projection in the cornices, and conse^juent flatness resulting from tliis 
defect ; esiHX'ially in a three-storeyed building, Anth an Order belonging 
U) one only. Wherever the Greeks used pillars, they stood fi*ee, and. 




'26i, rian uf the New Miueum at St. IVtenbnrgh. From Klenu'B ' Deacription.' 

a shadow lK.*iiijr obtainwl under tho roof of the colonnade, a second 
was not requireil from the np]XT nieml)er of the entablature ; but in 
inoilem l)(>niestic Architecture the case is reversed, and if shadow is 
not obtained fn)m the cornice it is found nowheR*. Another e<iually 
absurd restriction is that the arch shall on no account Ix? employed, 
though the (i reeks did use archers, and with as nuu^h or more l)e*iuty 
than ai-chitiiives. In this instance the an-hitec^t was instructed to 
incorporate in his new buildiufr a co]\v of the Logjrie of Ra})liael at 
Rome, which formed iwirt of the old Hermitage. To effect this he 

Chap. hi. 



had recourse to bracketed openings, shown in Woodcnt No. 2C9, which, 
to mj the least, are utTei-ted and nngracef ul, and their oinplovmcnt here a 
mere piece of pedantry. The moet ornamental facade la — ns it Rhonid be 
— that towardfl the river, where the effect, how- ^^^^^^^^^^^ 
ever, ie very much marred by the glazed attic 
being broiij^ht forward to the front, and mnning 
without a break over the open Log^ie and piers 
of the storey below. Either it ought to have 
been set buck altogether to the wall beliind the 
Loggie, or the colonnade ougiit to have been 
continnouB and unbroken. CoiiBideriu^ that this 
is the norchem face, wliere shadow is every- 
thing, the beet plan of treating it would have 
been to place a vase or statue ovit eacli pillar, 
and to bi-uak the attic back over each division. '2'iJimI'!lrs!^i'rui»iJmb'' 
It must lie confessed that the i)ro]ections would 
have looked somewhat uu meaning, but that would liuve Ik.'CU of minor 
importunco ; and anything is prufemhie to a thin glazed attic with live 
openings over three, with a roof sti thin as to puzzle one to find out how 
it ia constrncted. and tilBohitely no projection for shadow. 

Internally, the picture gullery crossing the court is arniiisrcd like 

that at llunicli — ii frreat gallery in the centre — (.«l>incts for small 
pictures on one side, and a corridor of communication on the other :— 
but this has additional moaning from the great staircase leading to it. 
The picture galleries are continued along the «-csteni face, and the 
whole is arnmged, not only with gi-ciit judgment and artis'tir effect, 
but also with a'gard to convenience. 

(ireat complaints are made of want of light in some of the apart- 
ments : and it is easy to see that this nmst Iw the awv, L-sgHxially in 


the basement. This would be otlierwise if the building stood in sunny 
Greece ; but it was uni)ai'donable to forget that it was designed for the 
banks of the Neva. 

In spite of these defects, the new Museum is of all the buildings of 
St. Petereburgh the one whicli the artist will oftenest recur to, and from 
the study of which he is more likely to improve his taste than from 
any other in the capital. There is much in its design, in its arrange- 
ments, and in its details, wliicli is very beautiful, and one can only 
regret that a little affectation and i)edantry prevented it from being 
the really satisfactory building it otherwise might so easily have been 

Besides this attempt to introduce the pure (Grecian style on the 
banks of the Neva, the Russians have lately followed the example of 
other Euro[)ean nations in attempts to reproduce their Mediaeval style 
for ecclesiastical j)uq)ose8. Alreiidy one important church has been 
erected at Kieff, several in Moscow and at Xovogorod, one at Neu 
Georgiesk, and even in 8t. Petersburgh this retrognide movement is 
rapidly l)ecoming important. The architects have, in fact, reached that 
stage to which we had advanced before Pugin taught us the value of 
al)solute falsehood : and although no one would now Ix' deceived, and 
mistake a nuMlcrn ^luscovite clinrch for an old one, there can Ix; little 
doubt but that in the coui*se of a few veal's thev will Ihj able to forge 
as iK'rfeetly lus either English or French architects. 

It is nut, however, only at home that this movement is progixissing, 
but wherever the Russians settle aljroad they are proud to declare their 
distincti\e nationalitv. Ah-eadv at Wiesbaden the\' have built a church 
with its five Inilbous domes and queer jK'ndants over the doorways, 
80 like the re'al thing that it would hardly catch the eye at Kieff or 

Recently, too, they have completed a still more ambitious edifice 
in Paris. When fii-st a glimjise of it is caught from near the Arc de 
PEtoile, it looks like the extravagant decoration of some Parisian 
Vauxhall ; but when examined close, we are* not astonished to learn 
that it has really cost the r)2,()()o/. which are^ said to have l)een lavished 
upon it, nor if told that it is, to the Russian mind, a tnie example of 
the j)erfection of Ecclesiastical Architecture*. This time the typi* has 
not l>een the usual five-domed chuich, but rather the exceptional 
Vasili Blanskenov at Moscow.^ As now seen in all the freshness of its 
staring coloui-s and barbarous forms, it looks more like the j^igcxla of 
some Indian or Mexican tril)e than the i)lace of worship of a civilised 
people : and if the Russians really wish to impress Western Europe 
with an idea that they too have i)rogressed like other nations, they 

1 * 

History of Architecture,* Woudcut No. 914. 


would do well to rtpress tlii/ir Tartar foelirigs, iind keep their Mus- 
covite forms of Art for the syinpatliicB iiiid ailtuiratiou of their oivn 

AiiU)ii<r the luitior uioiiuineuts of the Husfliaii capitiil, the most re- 
markable is the pedestid of the statue of Pet*v tlie Great ; — a aiiifjle block 
of stone, weighing, it is said, IdOU tons, and which, with very slight aid 


from the chisel, forms one of the best pedestals for a statue in the world. 
Its effect is, however, very much lost by l)eing placed in so immense a 
space as tliat in which it now stands, and where there arc no c»bjects 
to give a tnie scale of its size. In a courtyard or smaller piazza of 
any sort, its dimensions would l)e ten times more effective. 

Another monument of the same class is the monolithic column 
erected to the memory of the Emperor Alexander by his successor. 
It is the finest monoHthic shaft erected in modem times, l)einij: nither 
more than SO ft. in lenj^th, with a diameter of nearly 10 ft. The 
original length of the block when quarried was 102 ft., but the 
Chevalier de Montferrand cut off some 20 ft., not because it was either 
too long or too hetivy to raise, but because without this abbiwiation 
its projx)rtions would not have been those of a connect Roman Doric 
shaft ! Worthy of the architect of St. Isaac's ! A man with a s|»ark 
of originality or genius would have made it a jK)lygon, or designed a 
capital to suit any diameter. There were fifty ways in whifh the 
difficulty could have Ikhju got over ; but this nol>le monulith was 
truncated in deference to the proportion of juUara which the Romans 
had invented and used for totaUy different puriK)ses.^ Such rules also 
decide the fate of every nuxlern building ; and with such fetters as tliese 
the genius of modem artists is weighed to the dust. 

It recjuires very little knowledge of tlie histoiy of Arcliitectua' in 
modem times to feel assuix^d that the Russians will never attain to 
an}1ihing ga^at or good in Art by either of the processes l>y which 
they have hitherto attempted it. Thev never will create a style 
suitable to their wants by emj»loying second-class foi*eign aiiists t4) 
repeat on the shores of the Neva designs only aj)prnpriate to those 
of the Seine or the Til)er. Still less are they likely to succeed by 
encouraging native asjurants to rei)roiluce in all its details the style 
of the Middle Ages, though no doubt that has a certain deirree of 
fitness, and is intei-esting from its arclueological value. All the 
examples, however, are on so small a scale as hardly to come within 
the definition of architectural monuments ; and the ornaments a])pJied 
to them arc so rade and so clumsy tliat not one is worthy of lieing 
repeated, still less of being magnified so as to make an old Russian 
chapel or its details suited to the extended wants of modem times. 

There is still, however, one {mth that seems o]x?n to the Russian 
architects, and whicli, if followed steadily, might lead to the most 
satisfactory results. St. Sophia, at Constimtino])le, is practically the 
parent church of the Russian faith ; and the interior of St. S>i)ina is 

> Evon 08 it DOW stands, it is Faid to 
have cost more than 400,000/. ; and as it 
weighs about 400 tons, it cost nt arly 1000^ 
per ton. The raising: of the monolith and 
placing it upright was celebrated as a 

triumph of modem mechanical skill ; it 
may tlic-reforc be nn ntionc<l that etich of 
the tul)cs of the ^Icnai Bridge weighed, 
as rnisid, about 2000 tons. 


prol)ablv tlie most l)eautiful yet erected for the performance of the 
Christian ritnal. "With the experience we have since acfjuired, it 
could easily be improved, and a third or fonith edition of this church, 
on either a larjjer or smaller scale, but carried out with a well-defined 
aim of j>r(Klucing the best possible interior for a Christian church, 
mijiTht and ought to result in something more perfect and more beau- 
tiful than anything of its class the world has yet seen.^ St. Sophia 
has another advantage for such a purpose, — it hiis no external decora- 
tive arrangements ; and the architect is therefore left, in reproducing 
it, to apply whatever he thinks most elegant or most appropriate. It 
could easily lie can-ied out with five domes externally, or any other 
more appropriate Russian peculiarity. There is, in fact, a new field of 
discovery in this diixxition that might lead to the happiest results, if 
the Rusijiians arc capable of availing themselves of it. They certainly 
have U'en foUownng a totally mistaken path ever since the intro- 
duction of the Renaissance styles, with the most unsatisfactory results. 
It thircfore remains for them to show whether this has Ixjen only a 
jiassing delusion, or whether they are rejilly capible of anj-thing more 
oriu:iiial or more artistic than has been formed by their works up to the 
prcseiit time. 

* Kvi'ii the Turki<, in designing their niofM^ucs, have done wonders with this 
model : why >hoiild not tlie KuHttinna Ix' equally successful in applying its forms to 
tluir rlnirrhftJ, for which they were originally invented? 




[The peculiar constitution of society in the vast Russian empire, and 
its unfavourable ^geographical position, do not yet admit of the advance 
of Art, even in the chief cities, on anything like a parallel line with its 
progress in the other important countries of Europe. Archit<K3ture in 
recent years has not assumed any novel attitude in St. Petersburgh or 
Moscow ; fairly good Italian has been the rule for the gi-eater works, 
and the logiil colour which has not nnfre<iuently come to be introduced 
has been, as in previous times, nothing more than the assertion of a 
spirit of semi-Oriental magnilotiuence which is very natural in the 
circumstances. The spretvd of the new princij)le whi(?li is identified 
with the cultivation of popular Art has, however, reached Russia in a 
peculiar way, and is consideR>d to ha making satisfuctoiy progress. 
The accomplished lady who shares the throne of Alexander the Thinl 
is said to have l)een the promoter of the change. Having iK^eii trainee! 
in Art by her father — who, before he l)ecame King of r)en!nark, was a 
professional artist — the Empress has l)een able to see, and to ]»ei'suade 
her Consort, that the s(K*ial and indeed political value of the artistic life 
of a nation is no small matter ; and during the last twenty years, 
acconlingly, the ImiKTial \mr have devoted a fair shaiv of their leisure 
and their private means to the accunmlation of museums of academical 
and industrial art, whieh already almost fill the various pidaces at their 
comman<l. Schools of Decorative Art have also been established ; and 
very i-ec-ently a ptitriotic connoisseur has manifested his enlightened 
lilxjrality by toiueathing, for the special purpose of promoting industrial 
cniftsmanship in the Empire, the munificent sum of a miUion in English 
money, whioii, it is understood, will to some extent te devoted to 
the establishment of a centml school of the Decorative Arts, whereby to 
combine together the provincial schools and museums for properly' 
organised operations. A new Soc*iety of Artists has also been recently 
founded under the patronage of the Czar and Czarina, which, although 
it may be discouraged by the old-fashioned Academy of Fine Arts at 
St. Petersburgh, will probably effect much good, e6i>ecially as it not only 
takes up liberal ground generally, but exerts itself in the special direction 


of promoting roving exhibitions for the benefit of the provincial towns. 
All this, if correctly reported, may be considered to constitute a particu- 
larly interesting illustration of the influence of the movement of 1851, 
and of the incalculable value that may be attributed to the civilising 
influence of jwpular art. Even in the frost-bound North the artist will 
be a king when the soldier's occupation's gone. — Ed.] 






There is iK^rliajis no circumstance connected with the history of the 
RenaissiUR'C styles of Architecture so remarkable as the universality 
of tlieir extension, for not only liave they conquered and retained 
possession of Europe for the last three centuries, but they have now 
attained to undisputed sway on the Bosphonis, have nearly obliterated 
all the native styles of India, and may eventually extend into China 
and Japin. In addition to their Eastern concjuests, the whole of 
the New World naturally fell under their sway ; for, iis there was 
not in tliese countries any original style to displace, the European 
colonists introduced, as a matter of coui*se, the forms of Art they were 
in the habit of employing in their o^vn homes. So complete, indeed, 
has this extension been, that, if we except the yet uninfluenced 
countries of China and Japan, it is not, perhai>s, too much to assert 
that nine-tenths of the civilised inhabitants of the globe employ those 
styles of Architecture wliich were revived in Europe in the fifteenth 
century, or styles growing out of these, but carried out on the mis- 
taken prin"ii)les first introduced at that period. 

In the pix^vious chaptera of this volume the steps have been traced 
by which Italy, France, Sj>ain, and England were gi^adually induced 
to ad(>pt this fiishion of Art ; it has been shown how it penetrated 
into Oennany, Sc^mdinavia, and Russia ; and it has also been attempted 
to elucidate the causes which led to this strange revolution in the arts 
of design. It will not be necessiiry again to allu<le to these investi- 
gations in order to explain the reasons or the mode of its introduction 
in the East, as these are simple in the extreme, and He on the surface ; 
the one great cause being the influence of a dominant race, and the 


natural desire on the part of the subject people to imitate the manuers 
and adopt the arts of the conquering strangers. It is so natimil that 
this should be the case, that it is hardly necessary to insist more fully 
upon the point. But it requires some knowledge of the unsympa- 
thising intolerance which the Spaniards and the Portuguese possess in 
common with the Anglo-Sxon races, to understand why they should 
insist on carrying with them wherever they go the habits and customs 
of other and uncongenial climes ; and it is also indispensable to bear 
in mind how little real sympathy any of these colonising races had 
with Art in any of its foims, in order to appreciate the contempt in 
which they have always held the arts of the conquercd people, and 
the destniction of all that is beautiful which has followed their foot- 
steps wherever they have gone. 

With the knowledge we possess of the tastes of our comitrj-men, it 
is no matter of wonder that they should have carried with them their 
great principle of getting the greatest possible amount of accommoda- 
tion at the least possible expense — ^though at firet sight it does appear 
strange, that iieople so sensitively alive as the Eastern nations have 
shown themselves to all the refinements of Art, should at once have 
abandoned their own, to follow our fashions. Wlieii, however, we find 
the suitout-coat and tight-fitting garments of the "West in possession 
of the stivets of Constantinople, supei-seding their own beautiful cos- 
tume, we ought not to l)e sui'prised at the " Orders " being introduced 
simultaneously : and when native princes in India clothed their armies 
so as to make them caricatures of European infantry, it was impossible 
that they should escape the architectural contagion also. It may be 
sad, but it is only too true, that wherever the round hat of the 
European is seen, there the " Orders " follow eventually, though, for 
some climates and for some purposes, the one is just as migraceful and 
unsuitable as the other. 

Had the French ever colonised the East, their artistic instincts 
might have led to a different result ; but as the inartistic races of 
mankind seem the only people capable of colonisation, we must be 
content with the facts as they stand, and can only record the progress 
of the flood-tide of bad Art as we find it. 




Ix the year 1497,* the Portuguese, under Vasco de Gama, first 
passed the Cape of Good Hojie, and the following season landed at 
Calicut, in IMalabar. In lolo, Albuqueixjue besieged and took Goa, 
and established it as the capital of the Portuguese possessions in India. 
For more than a century it continued to be the principal seat of their 
power, and iKKjame, in con8e<|uence, the most important and most 
prosi^erous of the Euroi)ean cities of the Ejist. During this period it 
was visiteil and rendered illustrious by the teaching of St. Francis 
Xavier, one of the noblest and most devoted apostles of the Gospel in 
the East. It was also during this period of prosperity that those 
chunrhes and convents were erec^ted which now alone remain to mark 
the site of the deseited city, and entitle it to notice in a history of 

Either in conse»|uence of the increased size of the vessels used at 
the ])resent day, or Inicause of the silting-up of the river in front of the 
town, the seat of Govennncnt was moved more than a century ago to 
Panjim, lower down the river, and the old capital left in its pi*esent 
state of desolation. It is still, however, the nominal seat of the bishop 
and the religious capital of Portuguese India, and its churches are 
still kept in a tolerable state of rejwiir, though the touTi does not 
possess a single secular habitation beyond the \\Tet(;hed huts of a few 
native settlers. 

Of the churches, five are of the first class — buildings from 300 to 
400 ft. in length, with navc»s 45 and 50 ft. wide, and with aisles, 
transepts, and all the accompaniments to l)e found in Cinquecento 
cathedrals of important cities in Europe ; but, without any exception, 
they arc in a style of Art entirely destnictive of any efl^ect they might 
produce, either from their dimensions or the materials of which they 
are comjxwed. The I^ortuguests it appeal's, brought no architects 
with them to India, and the priests, to whom the superintendence of 
thi^so buildings seems to have ba'U intrusted, were probably better 
vei-sed in the Legenda A urea than in the works of Yitruvius — at least, 

' Five years after the fall of Granada. 


their ijruorance of the Orders, and of the principles of Classic design, 
produced the most wonderful effects, and certainly not with a tendency 
towards either purity or beauty. To this we must add, that the 
material is the coarse laterite rock on which they stand, and neces- 
sjirily covered with plaster ; all the details have l)een moulded by 
native artificers, more ignorant, of course, than their employers; 
while three centuries of white and yellow wash have ong ago oblite- 
rated any sharpness or cleverness of execution they may once have 
jx)ss4.'ftsed. It will be easily understood that, from all these causes 
combined, a result has been produced as tasteless and as unsatisfactory 
as «m well be conceived. 

Perhajis the church in Europe most like those at Goa is that of 
St. Michael, at Munich (Wo(Klcut Xo. 221). They possess the same 
vastness and the same air of grandeur, but the same painful jumble 
of ill-designed details and incongruous i)arts which mar the effect of 
tliat otherwise noble church. 

The cloisters attjiched to these (•hurchos are generally more pleasing 
objcH!ts. An arcaded court, in a hot climate, nnist Ixi very defective in 
design if it fails altogether in architectural effe(;t ; and some of those 
at Goa are really rich in ornament, lK»ing copied from such arcades as 
tiiose of the Lupiana, for instance (Wooflcut No. 89) ; but they, too, 
have lost much of their original effect from the re^jeated coats of 
whitewash with which they have l)een covered. 

The smaller churches, the Ai-senal, and some remains of public 
buildings now deseited, which still exist in Goa, all show the same 
total want of artistic treatment which marks the design of the greater 
churches. By what practically amounts almost to a red tat to ad absurdumj 
they ])rove the difficulty of j)ro<luciug a satisfactory design in this style 
without a rigid adherence to the original types, or without a know- 
ledge of constructive propriety, and an elegance of taste, which are not 
to Ik.' looked for among the amateur architects of remote colonies. 

At Macao, which only fell into the hands of the Portuguese in 
ir)8r», they i*howed even less taste than at Goa. The fonner city 
never wivs so ri(;h or so important as the latter, and never acquired 
any reliufious sanctity. Its only really important architectural feature 
is the facade of the Jesuits' church. The design for this was evi- 
dently pnxjured from Europe, and is characterised by the exuberant 
ri(rhness of detail which that societv have alwavs displaved in their 
chuivhes ; but in this instance the taste of the whole design is better 
and purer than usual, and the effect is considerably heightened by the 
whole ]K*ing executed in granite, with a neatness and precision which 
only the Cliinese are cai.vable of attaining. It is now in ruins, and the 
sombre grey tint that pen'ades the whole, combined with the singu- 
larity of finding such a fa9ade in such a locality, i-enders it one of the 


most pleasing fragments of Church Arcliitectnre in the East ; and it 
is the only building in Macao of its class that is worthy of minute 
notice in an architectural point of view. 

At Bombay nothing remained of the Portuguese but the fortifica- 
tions, which have recently l)een pulled down ; nor have any buildings 
survived at Demaun or Calicut which are worthy of notice. From 
the few specimens of Art with which they have adorned their own 
country, in Europe, this should not excite surprise ; on the contrary, 
the wonder is that they should have done so much as we find at Goa, 
rather than that they should have done it so l)adly ; and we might 
have expected to find even fewer buildings in the remote factories 
which they occupied during the brief period of their dominant career 
in the East. 




The Spaniards have done far less, in an architectural sense, at 
Manilla than even the Portuguese at Macao, and, as might be expected, 
the Dutch have done ver}' little in their settlements. Their churches, 
wb.ich are few and far Initween, are of the worst class of meeting- 
house architecture, and BaUxvia does not contain one single civil 
edifice of any architectural inijK)rtance. 

The only exce{>tion I know to these somewhat sweeping assertions 
is curious luid characteristic. The earlier settlers in India felt them- 
selves so com})letely ex}Mitriated and cut off from intercourse with 
EurojHj, that they adopteil many of the habits and feelings of the 
jxioplc among whom they wei*e dwelling. Among other jKJCuliarities 
they seem to have l)een seized with a mania for sepulchral magni- 
ficence : and at Ahme<lal)ad, Surat, and other early settlements on the 
West Coast, we find Dutch and English toml)s of the 17th century 
which rival in dimensions and are similar in fonn to those of the 
IMahonnnedan ]>rinces of the <lay. It is tnie, when closely looked into, 
their details will not lK*ar examination. Their builders had a notion 
that pillars should Ikj round, and aixrhes circular, and a hazy reminis- 
(•eiKf of the Ordei-s ; but they could not draw them, and the natives 
couUl not realise what was want^id from imjxirfect verbal instructions. 
The coiiseciuence is, we find domes supiK)rted on twelve pillara of no 
style whatever, and native tletails mixed with something which has 
no name, in a manner that is })erplexing, though often pictuivscjue. 
Ik'ing all in brickwork and stucco, most of them aa^ now falling to 
ruin : but Sir George Oxenden's (died lOGJ^) is still kept in repair, and 
would make a sensation in Kensal Gix*en ; but some of the others, 
esjiecially the older ones, are in better taste, and approach more 
nearlv the native models from which thev were all more or 'less 

Kuro}>eans were then a small and dependent connnunity, and weitj 

content to coj)y the manneis and arts of the natives, who were then 

su|>erior in rank and in iK)wer. The process has l)een since then 

entiix^ly revei-sed ; we are now in the position of the rulers of India in 

VOL, II. u 



thoee daja, and the natives have unfortunately taken to TOpytnj: us 
and OUT arts, as v>e adopted their habits aud copied theit arts when 
we first settled in tlicir country. 

The French probably would have done better than the other 
colonists, if their dominion liad lasted loni£or and been more stable ; 
but they never have been fiiirly settled in India so as to allow of 
any real development of their taste. Still, Cliaudemagore was, or 
was to have been, adorned with handsome public edifices, which, how- 
e\-er, do not now exist ; and though PondicheiTy is one of the neatest 

IMt. Frsm > Phnte^npta. 

a y 

1 po 

Pi -(t a 
aud It r I 
of CO rsi h 
of 1 II 

1 1 

iin]iort;int jnililif Imildinjrs, 
ever arms U> liiive Imd any, 
lu.\uiy tlicy were likely to 
their settlements iii-e there 

hese lliree luitionsi and the 
as rornninnities, wherever 

led Itiiliim style, exi-eptinp. 
All the windows and doors 

and iietlimeiits : anil where- 


ever a pillar is introduced, it was copied, or supposed to be, from 
Yignola, or some Italian text-work. Through their influence, the 
Orders became so far naturalised that they have been adopted eveiy- 
wherc — as we shall presently see — by the nations in all those coun- 
tries in which Europeans have settled, to the almost entire supersession 
of the native styles of Art 




Owing to the greater extent of their dominion, and its longer 
duration, the Enghsh have built more in India than all the other 
European nations together ; and, probably owing to the late period at 
which most of their l)iiilding8 have l)een exeiuited, it may perhaps be 
said that they have built l)ett<,*r ; but till after the first decade of this 
centuiT their stvle was the siime as that of the other nations men- 
tioned above. Alx)Ut thirty yeai-s ago the Anglo-Indians passed 
through the Grecian-Doric stvle of Ait. Durinir its continuance a 
Town-hall was erected at Bombay, a IMint at Calcutta, a Palace at 
Moi*shedabad, and sundry smaller edifices in various pirts of the 
country. In all these an enormous numlx*r of coirect Doric pillars, 
copied from Stuart s * Athens,' were built up as meixi ornaments, and 
generally so as to oljstnict ventilation, without keeping out the heat, 
and arranged in such a manner as to Ix; as unlike a tmly Grecian 
design as was p()ssil)le with such convct details. 

Sin(;e tliat time the Gothic stage has lKH.*n attained. It commenced 
with the Calcutta Cathedral, built in the Strawlxm* Hill form of 
Gothic Art, and is now l)eing intRMluced in chuR*hes all over the land ; 
but these last aiv generally meivly correct coi>ies of pirish churches in 
this countrv, and as such totally unsuiteii to the climate. 

If used with freedom and taste, no style might Ikj letter adapted 
for Indian use than Gothic ; but in order to apply it there, the aisles 
of a church nuist be placed outside, the tracery nmst Ije double and 
fitted with Venetians, and various changes in arrangement nmst be 
made which unfortunatdy the purist cannot tolemto, and the conse- 
quence is, they are worse off for a style of church-building now than 
beforc the introtluction of the Gothic stvle. 

The fact is, the Anglo-Indians have comi>i'essed into fifty years the 
experience we have spread over two centuries ; but they do not show 
more symptoms of approaching the connnon-sense stage of Art than has 
hitherto Ix^eu ap^xirent in the mother country, though Architecture 
(especially its domestic fomi) is so vit-ally important an element of 
existence in that climat<?, that, if thev once make the dis(?overv that 
conmion sense, guided by taste, is really the foundation of Architec- 


tnral Art, it is possible that we may again be taught many things, as 
we have been before, by the tasteful wisdom of the far East. 


The Government Honse at Calcutta is the principal edifice erected 
by the English in India during the first period indicated above. The 
idea of the design was copied from Keddlestone ("Woodcut Xo. 192), 
and was a singularly happy one for the purpose. It consists of four 
detached portions appropriated to the private apartments, and joined 
by semicircular galleries to the central mass containing tlie state-i'ooms 
of the Palace — ^an arrangement combining convenience with |Xirfect 
ventilation, and capable of being treated with very considerable archi- 
tectural effect ; all which has been fairly taken ad\'antage of. The 
principal defect (as it now stands) is that of Ijeing too low ; but it 
nmst ha borne in mind that when erected it stood alone, and the tall 
houses around, which dwarf it now, were all erected since. Its effect 
is also marred by the solecism of the Order running through two 
storeys, while standing on a low basement. If this might Ix? tolerated 
in the centre, under the dome, it was inexcusable in the wings, where 
it throws an air of falsity and straining after effect over what other- 
wise would be a very tnithful design ; but, taken altogether, there aie 
few modem palaces of its class either more appropriate in design, or 
more effective in their architectural arrangement and play of light and 
shade, than tliis residence of the Governor-General of India. 

The Town-hall, situated near the Government House, is a building 
imi)osiug from its mass and the simplicity of its outline, but is too 
commonplace in its design to produce the effect due to its other 
(juahties. It contains two great halls, ranged one over the other, 
ea(!h lighted by a range of side windows ; and then, by the usual 
expedient of a Doric portico in the middle of each front, running 
through the two storeys, tries to look hke a grand edifice without any 
floor in its centre. 

Of late years several very important pul)lic buildings have been 
erected in Calcutta, such as the Martiniere, the ^Metcalfe Hall, the 
Colleges, &c. ; but they are all according to the usual recii)e of English 
public buildings — a portico of six or eight columns in the centre run- 
ning through the two or three storeys as the case may lx» : a lesser one 
on each end ; and a plain curtain with ranges of unadorned windows, 
connecting the larger with the lesser porticoes. Nothing can well 
be more unsuited to the climate, or more commoni)lace in design ; 
but it is the misfortune of Calcutta that her Architecture is done 
by amateurs — generally military engineers — who have never thought 
of the subject till called upon to act, and who fancy that a few hours* 
thought and a couple of days' drawing is sufficient to elalx)rate an 



importiint aivUitwitural design. It is scarcely necessary to add any 
criticiiiin on the rcsalt ; for notiiiu}? eitlicr frreftt or good was over 
yet pi-odiiced without far more )al)oiir and tliou^'lit than have been 
e.xiK'iiik'd on these erections. 

The chiireheg in Calcutta are not moi* satisfactory thau the other 
public buildiTi^, except tliat the older examples, haviii<^ no pretensions 
to being other than they an.', jilease, in consoiiuence, to the extent to 
which their dimensioos and their oniumentatiun entitle them. They 
are meivly g<juare lialls, sonietiines with ranges uf pillars in their 
centre to supiwrt the roof, where the span is audi aa to require their 

BUIiiip WllKin'i 

inti-cKliiction, and with pilliired imrticocs outside to protwt their walla 
and windows from the sun, and they frenendly have steeples of the 
form niiUiilly adopted in this country in the last century. 

The late Hishop Wilson was the first to intiiiiute discontent with 
this slate of thin;ni, and he detenuiiied, like some of his English 
bn-lhren, to wii-e the stain of Pajriinism from ilie AnOiitecture of the 
Church, He determined therefoi-e to eu-ct a ]>roix.-r (ioLhic Cathedral 
ill the metropolitan ciiy. To ctiriT this out, he cliose as his architect 
the laie Colonel Forbes, of the Bengal Eiijrinwrs, a niiin of inliiiite 
talent, but who, like all his brother oihcers, fancied that Architecture 


ttiis t}[(- siiiiiiU-st ami most easily leaiiit of the Arts, instead of bein^ 
(iiif (if tliL' moHt diflicnlt, aud r(-(|iiiriiif; tlic loiifnst and most exclusive 
Btiidv.' Afi it iViiB, tlie Bishop all art'd his delusion in thin ros]H«t, and 
they jmnhiced Ijutweuri ilieiii a liiiildiiif: in u style such as has not been 
seen in iliis ooiintry since tlie Peat* of Paris. 

The consists of a laifre B(|iiure liall witliout aisles or 

• Every onp kri-wB th" ulnrj- i.f Hi., 
ho«t>.'i4 of mi fveiiliiK iiinnEnil juiHy whu, 
in itei<|<nir nt tlie nbscnpf nf Iht '■ priimi 
flHuto,'' tiirii'''l tn one of Iht uiiealB, and 
ukpilhim if he (viuldplnyon (lie German 
flute: to whicli lie njilied tlmt, never 
liliviti;; Irii'il, he rliil nnt know, but linrl no 
ol.jif li-in til inulce tlip at'ciujil now if tliey 
w^alit brin^' liitii ao io>triiiiicnt, I'liis 
ajilK'iira ililiculnim, Imt it in not luilf «n 
luni-h HI us iilti'iii]ilini; A irliib-ctiin- with- 
out loiJi; |>ri'viiiiii> tniiiiiiii:. Any man 
wirh n ;;iiik1 ear may lutfU lijiuwlt' tniiAic. 
fir, wiihii HiH-ial Tetliiig r<vc'>lonTorf'>i>ii, 
may aeijiiire iiiiuiili'r.iblu imiSci- iii-y in 




Tcqnirtd i'or iiitisiv, painting:, or HMilptiiru. 
i« an iiiiiiitc aietlietio fnciilty. Tlie atolii- 

ttft must (loaaeeH lliia iiUn, but jti addition 
ti> tliis lie uiusl lie » ■ualbeinatji'iun and a 
mechanic, lie must po^im n Icnnwledge 
(if iNinBtnictioii iiiid miiti-riali. he iniut 
know how innot i-uiiveiiiently tn l»Dvi(]e 
fur the ptirpoHcii of bis building, and liow 
aim to exjireiu Hhto moat urtiatieally. 
H<' iniul, in iihurt, liavi; kll the nstheUo 
fet'linini niinircd for tlie uxcraiHC of other 
arts, bui, in luldilion to Uiii-, a j^rcat deal 
more wliicb caniKit bj acquired l>y in- 
tuition, but mnrt be t o r.'i.ult of a llfe- 
loni; htudy. Murf than this, lie most 
know how tn eombino ibe technic with 
Ihi^ le^butic elcinmlii of his (leBi^ with- 
out iiiviiig nndnu |>redi>iiiiiia[i(% to either. 
Ib all tbU easy? 


transepts. The roof is flat (or rather was, for it has been somewhat 
altered since), and supported by a diagonally-trussed beam, such as we 
use in railway stations. At one end is a porch called a naithex, but 
which, in fact, is a library ; and between it and the church a steeple of 
very commonplace design rises through the roof. 

The only ornament of the exterior is a mnga of lean buttresses, 
between which were tall whidows filled with wooden tracerv of the 
Perpendicular Order ; but these, instead of painted glass, ai*e dis- 
figured with green painted Louvre boards to keep out the sun. We 
have done strange tilings in this country, but nothing quite so l>ad 
as that. It entirely fails as a Gothic reproduction ; for, as we jwr- 
fectly understiind now, a few ill-drawn Gothic details are not in them- 
selves sufficient to entitle a building to be ranked among the Revivals 
of Mediaeval Art. The woret feature, however, is that of being 
entirely unsuited to the climate, having neitlier verandahs for shade, 
nor proper windows for ventilation ; nor do its arrangements siitisfy 
any of the reiiuirements of the ecclesiologist of the j)resent day. 

The Fort Clnirch is a k'tter specimen of the art, but it is only a 
copy of the chajKil in York Place, Edinburgh, and that is a copy from 
St. Mary's, Beverley ; and though it has deteriorated at each remove, 
and the details of the Calcutta Church would shock our present critical 
eyes, it wiis, at the time it was built, the best thing of its class that 
had l)een done in India. 

As meutioneil al)ove, several station churches have reoentlv l)een 
erected, which might pass for English })arish churches when seen at a 
distance ; but no architect has ap]i)roached the problem of designing 
a church siHicially suited to the climate, though the freedom from 
trammels, and the immense variety of deUiils in Gothic Art, lend 
themselves most easily to such a pur]i)ose in that climate. 

In so far as the system of ornamented construction is concerned, the 
Saracenic style is identical with the Gothic : l)oth used pointed arches, 
clustered piers, vaulted roofs, and they claim other features in common. 
The most striking and s[)ecific difTerence is that the one uses domes 
where the other introduces spires ; but as in most cases these features 
are merely external ornaments, there is no retison why the architects 
in both styles should not adhere to their own jxjculiar forms, while 
adopting, when ex]i)edient, the principles of the other. 

As the Saracenic has been so completely adapted to the climate, 
there seems no retison why the Gothic should not be so also ; but it 
must be by thinking, not by copying, that this can be effected. Xine- 
tenths of the mechanical arrangements of our churches were introduced 
to guard ainst cold and tiie roughness of the climate, leaving one- 
tenth for ventilation or to avoid over-heating. In India exactlv the 
reverse is the case : nine-tenths must be specially designed to protect 
the congregation from the heat, and very httle attention need be pi\id to 


the danger of cold or storms. Seeing how perfectly the Saracenic 
style, which is so nearly identical, has met and conquered these 
difficulties, the same thing could now be done far more easily with 
the Gothic ; but unfortunately it has not hitherto been looked at 
from this point of view, consequently none of our churches in India 
can be considered as even moderately successful. Instead of setting 
their minds earnestly to the task, the English have been content to 
carry with them into India the strange creed of their native country, 
" that Archeology is Architecture ; " and when they have set up an 
accurate model of some old church which adorns some rural village 
in the Midland Counties, they fondly fancy that they have satisfied 
all that is required of a true architect in designing a Protestant place 
of woi-ship suited to a tropical climate and the refined exigencies of 
the nineteenth century. 

The most correct Gothic building yet erected in India is the 
College at Benares, designed by the late Captain Kittoe, who, though 
not educated as an architect, had more enthusiasm for the art than 
most men, and had devoted many years of his life to its study in 
India and elsewhere ; he was consequently in a position to do better 
than most of his brother officers ; but he had not sufficient command 
of the details of the style to adapt them to the new circumstances, 
and his college is from this cause a failure, both as an artistic design 
and as a utilitarian building. The result of this is that it has been 
subsequently so altered that its Gothic character has nearly dis- 
ap{)eared, without acquiring those qualities which ought primarily to 
have ^ruided the architect in his design. 

It is very difficult to guess what may be the future of Architecture 
in India. It will hardly be in the direction of Gothic, except for 
churches : Imt there other feelings than those that guide the progress 
of Art may interfere. In civil buildings the Saracenic is practically 
so like (rothic that it will probably l)e preferred where that class of 
detail and that amount of ornament is wanted. Already several 
attem])ts have been made to introduce it into public buildings, but 
generally by jversons who had accjuired only a \Qvy superficial know- 
ledge of the style from Daniel's prints or recent photographs. To 
adapt it really to any new j)uri)ose retjuires a far more intricate know- 
ledge of its principles than any of those who have tried their hands 
at it in India have been found to jxissess. The designs hitherto prof- 
fered or executcni would look verv well as the l>ack scene of a theatre, 
or a m(Klel at Cremorne or the Crj'stal Palace, but are not serious art, 
or likely ever to become worthy of that name. A far more hopeful 
sign is the style adopted in some of the new buildings at Bombay. 
During the American war fabulous fortunes were realised there from 
the rise in the price of cotton. The old fortifications of the city were 


pulled down, new streets and boulevards were laid out, and buildings 
commenced in the new citj in a style of magniiicence unknown up to 
that date in British India. Many of these, too, consist only of 
arcaded storeys superimposed one on another, with only sucli ornament 
as is required to accentuate the construction ; and when pillai-s are 
introduced it is only when their employment is more convenient than 
that of an arch. Owing to the sudden revulsion that took place when 
the civil war in America ceased, many of these buildings are nut yet 
finished, or at least only photographs of them, with the scaffold up, 
have reached this country. But enough can l)e gtithered from them 
to feel sure that if our countrymen have only the courage to adhere to 
this common-sense style and forget Gothic and Stiracenic fancies, they 
will soon accomplish something very good ; and with the dimensions 
and hght and shade which the climate demands, oiu* Indian cities may 
become objects of which we may Ihi proud. 

An equally good result has l)een attained at Hongkong, where 
a similar style of architecture has l)een introduced, and whei*e the 
superior style of workmanship of the Chinese, combine<;l with the 
extreme l)eauty of the situation, have rendered the external as]i>ect 
of that city equal to anything known in Eurojie. Neither Genoti nor 
Naples can compare with it architecturally, though in outward form 
they resemble it, es|xicially the former. 

With such results, and with a climate demanding architectural 
fonns and display, there is hope that something good may Ik? done, 
provided the pitfalls can 1)0 obviated which have proved the ruin of 
the Art in Europe. This progress, however, it must l)e ol^served, has 
only l)een attained in the ]i)rivate buildings and residences of the 
merchants and civilians. In Bombav these wei*c till recentlv irene- 
rally only magnified bungalows, with sloping tiled roofs and wo<xlen 
verandahs ; in Madras they were and are a little l)etter, but too gene- 
rally without any architectunU pretensions ; in Bengal they were 
seldom without their verandah of pillars in one of the Italian (Jrders, 
and with cornices and window-dressings in the Siime style. 

In Calcutta the houses are generally square blocks, at least two, 
generally three storeys in height, always standing alone in what are 
called compounds, or courts adorned with gardens and suiTounded 
by the domestic offices. Each house is a sejmrate design by itself, 
and towards the south is always covered by deep verandahs, gene- 
rally arcaded in the basement, with ])illars aljove, which are closed 
to half their height, from above, by green Venetian blinds, which 
are fixed as part of the structure. The dimensions of these fayades are 
about those of the Ixist Venetian palaces. The Grimani, for instance, 
both in dimensions and arrangement, would range perfectly with the 
ordinary run of Calcutta houses, though, alas ! none of them could 
approach it in design. They also possess, when of three storeys, the 


advantage pointed out in speaking of Italian palaces, of having the 
third storey of equal height to the lower two. 

The consequence of all this is, that, although the pillars are spaced 
six or even eight or ten diameters apart, and support only wooden 
architraves, though the whole is only brick covered with stucco, and 
though the details are generally Imdly drawn and frequently misap- 
plied, still the effect of the whole is eminently j)alatial and satisfactory. 

In fact, with these dimensions, with their appropriateness, their 
ornamental detail, and the amount of thought l)estowed on each sepa- 
rate design, it would he nearly impossible it should ha other^vise. 
They are, in fact, nothing but what they pretend to be ; and when 
this is the case it is far more difficult to do \\Tong than it is to do 
right according to the system of design in vogue in this country. 

Now that arcades are very generally introduced instead of pillars, 
and better details and more perfect constniction are everywhere to be 
seen, and have already altered the aspect not only of Boml)ay and 
Calcutta but of other Eastern cities, we may look forward with some 
confidence to a day when other places may Ixj dignified by the title of 
'" Cities of Palaces," to which in former days Calcutta alone not 
unjustly aspired. 




It was not to be expected that any artistic fashion could for so long 
a i^riod be practised by the comjuering race without the subject 
people adopting it in some form or otlier, and trying to apply it to 
their own imrix)8es. Unfortunately, since the world l)egan it has been 
the curse of all comjuest that the comjuered people can neither emu- 
late the virtues nor rise to the level of their miisters, while they are 
prone to aiK* their fiishions, and, in copying, to exaggerate their vices. 

India has l)een no exception to this rule ; and it would be difficult, 
in modern times at least, to find anything nmoh more contemptible 
than the tawdry imitations of a European Court which we ourselves 
set up at Lucknow, coupled as it was with a sensuality and corruption 
which can only exist under an Asiatic sun. Although it was here 
that the Eastern fonn of the Italian Renaissance bl(X)med in all its 
alisurdities, it was not here that it first took root. Our empire and 
our influence commenced in the Caniatic, long l)efore it practically 
extended to Bengal : and it is at Tanjore, TrichinoiK>ly, and the other 
cities of the south, that the natives first trieil what tliev could do in 
the styles of All)erti and Michael Angelo. 

One of the most remarkable examples of this is to be found at 
Tanjore. As you approach the town you see two great jiagoda 
forms towering over all the rest, nearly eijual in dimensions, and not 
unlike each other in form. The one is the grand old temple represented 
in Woixlcut No. 104;') in the ' History of Architecture ' ; the other is a 
portion of the ^ala<.^^ and, on a nearer examination, is found to l)e 
made u\) of Italian luilustei*s, some attenuated, some stumpy, inter- 
mixed with ])illars and pilasters of the most hideous shajK^s, but all 
meant fi»r Italian, and mixed up with Hindoo gods and goddesses, and 
little scnijK^ (»f native An-hitecture jK.*ei>ing out here and there, so as 
to make uj) a whole so inexpressibly ludicrous and hid, that one 
hardly knows whether to laugh or U* angry. At first sight it appears 
difficult to understand what state of affairs could have brought al)OUt 
such a (.'ombination as this ; but if anv one wanted to understand 
thoroughly the state of tlie native mind at the time this pagoda 
l^alace was erected, he could nowhere find a l>etter illustration. There 


is here that persLstent adherence to their ancient forms and feelings in 
all essentials wliich characterises everything native, merely varnished 
over with a tawdry film of European civiUsation which they neither 
feel nor understand. 

What was done at Tanjore only faintly foreshadowed what took 
place at Lucknow. Our power was too early established in the south, 
and the destruction of the native dynasties too complete, to allow of 
any great development of any sort in their dependent state. The 
most powerful of southern native princes, the so-called Nawaub of 
the Carnatic, was brought into Madras itself, where he erected a huge 
formless pile, in which he and his descendants now hve, but without 
the means of indulging in any architectural vagaries. 

The kingdom of Oude was one of our next creations. From the 
importance of their relative position its sovereigns were from the 
earliest date protected by us, which means that they werc relieved, 
if not from all the cares, at least from all the i'esj)onsibilitie8 of 
government ; and, with the indolence natural to the Indian character, 
and the temptations incident to an Eastern Court, left to sj^kjikI in 
debauchery and coniiption the enormous revenues placed at their 
di8ix)sal. The result might easily have Ixjen foreseen. Things went 
on from \mi to worse, till the nuisance l)ecame intolera])le, and was 
summarily put an end to by the daring injustice of Loixi Dalhousie's 

One of the earliest buildings of impoi-tance at Lucknow, in the 
Italian style, is the Mansion of Constantia,* built by General Martin,* 
i\» a residence for himself. 

The General wiis apparently his own architect, and has produced 
a design somewhat fantastic in arrangement, which sins against most 
of the niles of pure Palladian Art to an extent that would not be 
pardonable except in such a climate and under the peculiar cii-cum- 
stances in which it was erected. Notwithstanding this therc is some- 
thing very striking in the great central tower, rising from a succes- 
sion of terraced roofs one over the other, and under which are a series 
of halls grouped intenially so as produce the most pleasing effects, 
while their arrangement was at the same time that most suitable to 

* So caI1c<l apparently from the motto of Pondicherry, and joined the English 
*• Lahore et Coufrtantia," adopted by the ' service, in which he mso to the rank of 
General, and written up in front of his (ieneral. Ho left tlie greater pjirt of his 
house. I immense fortune to found educational 

* Geinral Martin was born at Lyons in establishments at Lyons, Calcutta, and 
1732, and died at Lucknow 1800. He Lucknow; but, owing to the kngtli of his 
commenced his career as a private sf»ldier will, and his having tlrawn it up himself, 
in the F'rench army ; but, in conscqueric« i in bad English, the principal part of his 
of Lall)*s severity, deserted at the siege money has been wasted in law expenses. 



the climate. The sky-line is everywhere broken by little kiosks, not 
perhii[)s in the best taste, bnt pleasing from their situation, and appro- 
priate ill the vicinity of a town so full of such oniameiits as thu city 
in whow pi-oximity it is situuted. Taken altogether, it is a far more 
reasoiialile edifice than the rival rajirircio of Beckford, at Font- 
hill : and if ita details had been purer, and some of those solecisms 
avoifieii which an amateur areliitect is snre to fall iuto, it really does 
contain the germ of a very lieautiful design. 

The founder of the mansion lies beneath in a dimly-lighted vaulted 
chamber in the basement of the great tower. His tomb is a simple 

From 4 FbotogTJkph, 

plain fiarcophagiu, stamling oi[ the floor, and at each angle a grenadier 
in full unifoviii stands with arms reverecd, in an attitude of grief, as if 
miinniitig over the fall of his master. The execntion of the monu- 
nuiit, like cvervthing aljoul the jilace, is bad, bnt the conception is on« 
of the finest that has yet l>een hit njioii for a soldier's grave. 

This mansion is now fulling' to ruins, and a hiiildini.' of stuccoed 
briek is by no means a pleasing objwt in (k-cay : bnt when new it 
nnist have lx*ri very stciking. Xt all e4ents, its effect on the Onde 
soveu'igns was most remarkable. For although their toml«, their 
mos([iies, and imamlmrrahs were still eivctetl in the delmsed Saracenic 
style then prevalent, all tlie palaces of Liicknow were henceforth 


erected in this pseudo-Italian style. The Furrah Buksh, the Chutter 
Munsil, and numerous other buildings, display all the quaint pietu- 
res<iue iiTegnlarity of the age of Francis I., combined with more 
strange details than are to be found in the buildings of Henri IV. 
These Avere far surpassed in grotesqueness by the Kaiser Bagh, the 
residence of the late king. This consisted of a gi^eat square of build- 
ings surrounding an immense courtyard : the whole palace being in 
extent and aiTangement by no means unlike the Louvre and Tuileries 
as joined together by^he late Emperor. But, instead of the beautiful 
stone of Paris, all was brick and plaster ; and instead of the appro- 
priate details of that i)alace, the buildings surrounding the great court 
at Lucknow are generally two storeys in height and singularly various 
in design, generally with piljisters of the most attenuated forms 
ninning through both storeys, between which Italian windows with 
Venetian blinds alternate with Siiracenic arcades, or openings of no 
stvle whatever. These are surmounted by Saracenic battlements, and 
crowned by domes such as Rome or Italy never saw, and the whole 
jiainted with colours as cmde as they are glaring. Inside there are 
seveml lai-ge and handsome halls, but all in the same bad taste as the 


exterior, and adorned with miiTors and furniture of the most costly 
description, but generally placed where they are not wanted, or where 
their presence has no meaning. 

A detached building called the Begum Kotie is a better specimen 
of the style than an}iihing perhaps in the Kaiser Bagh itself, but it 
cannot either be called a favourable si)ecimen of Italian Art or a 
successful adaptation of the style to Oriental purposes, though it has 
a certain amount of picturesqueness which to some extent redeems its 
other defects. Like all the other specimens of Oriental Italian Archi- 
tectiu'e, it offends painfully, though less than most othere, from the 
misiipplicatiou of the details of the Classical Orders. Of course no 
native of India can well understand either the origin or motive of the 
various }Mirts of our Orders — why the entablatm*e should be divided 
in architrave, frieze, and cornice— why the pillars should be a certain 
nunilKfr of dianietei's in height, and so on. It is, in fact, like a man 
trvinir to eoi)y an ins(;ription in a language he does not understand, 
and of which he does not even know the alphaljet. With the most 
(•oiTect eye and the greatest pains he caimot do it accurately. In 
India, l>esides this ignorance of the grammar of the art, the natives 
cannot help feeling that the projection of the cornices is too small if 
meant to jiroduee a shadow, and too deep to be of easy construction in 
plaster in a climate suljject to monsoons. They feel that brick pillars 
ought to be thicker than the ItaUan Orders generally are, and that 
wooden aix^hitraves are the worst possible mode of coustniction in a 
climate wiiere wood decays so rapidly, even if spiired by the white 
ants. The consequence is, that, between his ignorance of the prin- 



ciples of Claseic An od the one band, and his knowledge of vbu is 
ratted to hifl wants and his climate od the other, he niake^ a saA 
jnmliie of the Orders. Bnt fashion sup|itie3 the Indian with thoee 
incentives to copyinir which we derive from association and edacation ; 
and. in the vain attempt to imitate hh saperiors, he has aljendtiued his 
own lieantifnl an to produce the nran^ jamble of vulgarity and bad 
taste we find at Lnckuow and elsewhi-re. 

Tlie great caravanserais which the Calcutta bahooa and ibt- native 
rajahs have ertcted for tlieir residences in I^wer Bt-n^ral are i.'eneraHj' 
in this style, Imt with au additioual taint of vn^rity. Bnt iierbajw 

the mi)gt striking example of it all is a {uvilion which was erected 
within tlie [liilaee nt Delhi by the late king. It stood beliind, and 
s SL-cn alxivc. the great audience Iiall of Shah -Tehan, in which once 

stood the celiihrated jicacock throne. 

most lieautifiil ujiiirtiiit-iits of its cliiss i 

(hxT this, on entering thi; ]«lacf, you sii 

and jiIaMtLT, which its Imilder nssuniL-d t( 

Ittilian windows and Venetian hlini 

green, the frieze red, and llie ornaments yellow 1 — the whole iu worse 

taste than the summer-house of n Outch skipjicr, as seen overhai^ing 

a canal iu Holland. Contrasted with the simplicity and the elegance 

ind is one of the noblest and 
1 any jialace in the world, 
w a little |>avilion of brick 
I lie the Doric (Inler, with 
The Iniilding wa^ [>aint«d 


of the white marble palace beneath, it told, in a langua<?e not to be 
mistaken, how deeply fallen and how contemptible were the late 
occupants of the throne, as compared with their great ancestors of the 
House of Timour, who niled that mighty empire with wisdom, and 
adorned its cities with those faultless edifices described in a previous 
part of this work. 

We Uve so completely among the specimens of the art of Archi- 
tecture which are found in this country, and our associations or our 
prejudices are so l>ound up with our admiration for, or our feelings 
against them, that it is extremely difficult for us to get outside and 
take a calm sur\'ey of the whole, so as to read all the lessons that 
might be learned from their study. But if any one wished to fc»el 
assured how j)erfectly Architecture is a reflex of the national character 
and taste, there is periiaps no place where he would see this more 
clearly and distinctly than in studying the history of Architecture in 
Hiudostan during the last six centuries. 

Nothing can l)e grander and more severe, and, at the same time, 
more chastely ornate, than the buildings erected by the stem old 
Patans in the early centuries of the concjuest ; nothing more elegant, 
or in Arcrliitecture more poetic;, than the j)alaces, the tombs, and 
mos'iues erected by the Mogul sovereigns during the period of their 
prosjxTity ; and nothing could be better calculated to display at the 
time, and to hand down to posterity, a clear impression of their wealth, 
their magnificence, and the refinement of their taste. 

Nothing, on the other hand, could more clearly show the utter 
degradation to which subjection to a foreign power has depressed their 
successoi-s than the examj)le8 of the liastanl style just quoted. When 
we reflect how comj)letely the best educated and the most artistic 
classes in the reign of Queen Anne k^anied to despise the Gothic style 
of our forefathers, the taste for which has returned, and we now admire 
so intensely, we ought not to Ikj suii)rised if the natives of India 
should have l)een influenced in the same manner, thougii from different 
causes. But it does seem astonishing, that while the Hindoos were 
erecting temples and ghauts, if not so grand, at Iciist as elegant, as of 
yore — while the very kings of Oude were erecting such buildings as 
the (irand Imamlwirrah, or the Roumi Durwaza — they should, at the 
same time, fancy they saw beauty in such alKmiinations as they were 
l>erj»etratiiig under the guise of Italian Art. Is it that the demon of 
fashion can always blind our better judgment, and force us to admire 
any monstrosity that is in vogue at the moment ? — and this, in spite 
of all that our K^tter taste, or innate feeling of what is right, may 
point out to us as either really correct or beautiful. 






[In r»riouB parts of the great DL-jieiidciicy the iiifliK-tiit; uf Rritish 
doiiiinntiou is still iK'ncticially nt w<jrk tu iirchitwtui'u ; mid, niore 

uHm-tnally, vorytrood work hns Kfii ilnm huR' urxl tliuru in tlmt imitatinii 
<ir riPW[)tiiii(f of the niitive iiiodw uf ilfni^ii «-lii<!h itiodcrii Eiiirlish 
)iiiti'[iiitrianiiiiii sceias to n-^nird us a tixi'd |iriiii'i]i]<;. 


Plate 27C// illastrates a desi;jrn, by Emerson of London^ which has 
ver}' destTvttlly o) stained honourable recognition. As the pnpil of 
Barges, tkLs architect niay lie said to combine with an incidental 
knowleflge of Indian art tliat peculiar form of vigorous gracefulness 
which was the stn>ng jjoint of his master's work, always with the spirit 
of media'valism prominent. Tliis accounts for the Gothic character of 
some of the detail, while the motive of the grouping and disposition 
general Iv seems to Ije verv sucvespfullv Indian. 

The new ])alace of the native ruler of Baroda (So. 27 Qb) was 
built under !Major Mant, an EugUshmiin, and is regarded as a highly 
successful work of {)erhaijs a more characteristic if less refined style. 
The Gothic element is aljsent : and the reader is quite at liberty to 
think, if he feels so incline<l, that its aljsence is not an advantage ; that 
is to Siiy, that the spirit of Gothic hapi)eus to form a valuable and 
legitimate alloy for Indian art in English hands. 

Canniii^r College, Luckiiow (27(>/), is by a native architect, and on 
close insi»eetion will lx.» found to j^Kjssess more artistic merit than may 
l)e ap]Kiiviit at first sight. Certain odd and unintelligible features 
must l)e allowed for, tis justifiable on local grounds if not admirable 
Qjherwirkf. — Ed.] 






Strictly siJoakiii^r, the liistorv of tlie Kenaissance Architectun} in 
Turkcv, or, more projXTly, in Constantinople, on^^lit to 1k» treated as 
coninieneinjr nearly eonteniix)raneoU8ly with its rii^e in Italy, inasmuch 
as after the «leath of Mahomet II., in 14H0, the Turks alMindomKl their 
own ori*rinal style of mos'iue-hniMiuLT, to copy the Byzantine fonns of 
the city they hail just obtained possession of ; and so enamoured did 
thev iKi'omc with the new fonn, that thev have never reverted to the 
usual or orthodox j>lan of a mosijue in the ca]ntiil, though in the 
provinces the true Siiracenic style has always pivvailed, with only a 
verv sliijfht admixture of the Bvzjintine element. 

Theiv is, however, this very material and important distinction 
between the ])racticij of the architects of the Western and Eastern 
capitals of the old Roman Empiiv. At Rome, the Renaisstmce architect* 
retained the old form of the Mediivval Church, but earned it out with 
Classical <letails : at Constantinople, the Turks adoi)t<Kl, in their 
mosjpies, the forms of the Byzantine Clum^h, which were new to them, 
but carrieil tmt their designs with their own K'autiful and api)ropriate 
details. The former was a stupid and unnecessjiry j>roces8, brought 
Hl)out — as iK)inted out above — by ciivumstances wholly irresjyective of, 
and foreiLHi to. the art of Aivhitecture. The latter is a re^isonablc 
and pn>]K*r coui-se to pui-sue, which, honestly pei"seveR*il in, can only 
lead to the most satisfactorv n*sults. 

Nothing can be wiser or more ex]HMb*ent than that a foreign nation 
8(Utlinir in a new country should ado]>t such forms and arrangements 
of buililings as have lK.'en found most suital)le to the chmate and to the 
constructive necessities of the ]>lace : but it l\v no means follows from 
this that they aiv also to cojiy the details, and to debar themselvea 
from introduciuir every improvement their taste or their own experience 
mav sniTL^est. 

When the Turks conrpieivd Constantinople, they soon found that 

Chap. I. TURKEY : MOSQUES. 311 

the climate was not suited to the open courts for mosques which were 
so aj^propriate at Cairo or at Delhi ; and, having before them such 
nol)le buildings as the Church of St. Sophia, and other domical churches 
of the j^reat age of Byzantine Art, they at once adopted the foiin, and 
set about building mosques on that plan, but improving, in so far as 
thev (M)uld, not only the arrangement and construction, but employing 
everywhere their own Saracenic details, and adapting each of them to 
the place it was to occupy, and the constnictive necessities it was to 
fulfil or to represent. 

Strictly sjxjaking, the arrangement of the plan and the construction 
of a building belong to the engineering branch of the profession. 
The hiirmonious adjustment of its proportions, and the appropriate 
ornamentation of these parts, fall 8iK*cially within the province of the 
Architet.'t. All that the Turks did was to borrow the mechanical part 
of their mosques from their Byzuntine predecessors ; but they were 
neither so lazy nor so as to think that their doing so excused 
them from the necessity of thought, or that mere reproduction can 
either Ik.% or can ever represent, contemporary Art. 

The i»ractical result of these two different systems is what might 
easilv be foreseen. At Kome we have St. Peter's — a (Jothic church 
c.irrie<l out with Classical details ; though in diiuensions it is as large 
as any three Mediieval cathedrals put together, though, constnictively, 
it is sni>eri()r to any, and though in richness of detail and ornamenta- 
tion it surpasses them all — yet in the effec^t it produces, and in artistic 
merit generally, it is less satisfactory than the smallest and plainest 
of Mediieval cathwlrals. 

At Constantinoi>le, on the contrary, we have, in the contemporary 
Snlimanie Mosque, a building which, though one of the first attempts 
of a new jHiople in an unfamiliar style, is l)eautiful in itself, and in 
some respects an improvement on the model from which it was copied.^ 
In the Most pie of Ahmed and others, we have interiors as superior to 
those of the contemjwrary chuivhes of the Palladian school as it is 
jK)ssible to conceive ; and this result was obtained by a sat of ignorant 
Turks, aided by a few renegade Levinitines, ccnqK^ting with the best 
intellects and the most cnlucated classes of Western Europe, at the 
time of their highest artistic development ! 

But the Westerns were following out a wrong system, in which 
success was imi^issible. The Easterns were corart in their i)rinciple8 
of Art, and failure was consecpiently ver}' difficult to ho achieved. 

In so far, therefore, as the form is concerned, the Constantinopolitan 
Renaissanct^ arose contemporaneously with the Italian, and might 1x5 
so treated in a history of Art. If, however, the c^ssence only is con- 
sideivd, it dates only from within the limits of the present century. 

* See 'History of Architecture,' vol. ii. p. 413 et seqq. 



Though either classUication miwht coiiswmentiy be a iopted, the latter 
is the relation in which it will be convonieiit to treat of it on the 
present occasion, 

Since the beginning of the present century Tnrkish Arciiiteetnre 
may be aiiid to have fairly passed ont of this stajtc of t|iinsi-ReuiUssnnce, 
or true Art, which tliatinfrmBhetl it for the previous three wnturies, 
and to have iissumed the true Renaissance, in all its illojrienl and 
untliinking unreasoiiahleiiess. 

The round hats of the Franks have itivailed the Bosphonis, and 
with them have come their mistaken principles of Art. To the 
Byzantine form of their mosques the Turks have now added the dt-tiiils 

of the Italian Onlei-s : but )is yet nut unirracefiilly, i»utly lieesin^m 
Ronuni details ill's not wholly iriconjrnious with Byziintine forms, and 
betause, in tbc niosijiics at least, it is oidy the details, not the foniia, 
that tiifV hine altei\;d. It has not yut c «.'(.■ iiri-ed to them to try and 
make (jne of their reliL'ions iililiees look like a Koniiui Basilica, or ii 
Greek- Temple, or anything:, in fact, but what it is: and thus. far, 
therefore:, the injury is only [liiitial. 

In the mos<|Ue, for instanc-e. that t!ie Sultan Jlahomed II. (IXiW- 
ItfiH) ea^etod at Toptiana, the oiuline is that of all the older buildings, 
and it is only on a close or critical ins|H.'ctioii that "c discover the 
clumsy consoles and luidly-pi-otilcd comiee* ivith «liicli it is cowivd. 

Tliat of his predecessor, Selim, at Scutari, ts a more ])leasinL' sjieci- 

Chap. I. TURKEY : MOSQUES. 313 

men : and though all the details are really Italian, they are used with 
such freedom, and so little obtrusive, that their introduction may 
almost be forgiven. Were it not for the exceeding beauty of the older 
mosques, we should not hesitate to admire this specimen of the art ; 
and it is also easy to see that a little more familiarity with the best 
class of Italian details would have remedied many of the defects of 
th?8e desi<^ns. The only question being, Is freedom possible with such 
ftimiliarity ? all that can now be answeixxi is, that so far as our 
experience goes, knowledge and slavery in Architectural Art seem 
svnonvmous teims. 

The great mosfjue wliich Mahomet Ali erected in the Citadel at 
Cairo is a still more remai-kable example of the decline of architectural 
taste in the East. Its dimensions are very considerable, as it consists 
of a square block of building measuring 157 ft. each way, and, with 
the attached courtyard surrounded by arcades, the whole meiisures 
305 ft. by IHG. Its plan, too, is unexceptionable, being a square hall 
sunnounted by a dome GO ft. in diameter internally, and four semi- 
domes of pure Constantinojwlitan tyjje.^ In addition to these tid van- 
tages, its materials are richer than any used for a similar purpose in 
any niosciue in modern times, the walls internally l>eiiig all covei'ed 
with slabs of Oriental alabaster of the most Ixjautiful tints ; and it was 
intended to have carried the same class of ornamentation all over the 
extc'rior. but the mosque was left unfinished at the death of its 
founder in 1S42.2 

Notwithstanding all these advantages, the building must be prc- 
nouncfd a failure in an architectural point of view, for the same i"easou 
that the church at Mousta fails, as also the cathedrals of Boulogne and 
(Jran^ — Ixicause of the want of knowledge of the principles of design 
on the part of their archit<.'cts, and because their details neither express 
the i;onstruction nor are elegant in themselves. Externally, the mosque 
itself is pierced with two storeys of plain unornamented windows, 
whii'li, without any grouping, certainly do not indicate the interior. 
The arches of the vaults arc^ not brought thi'ough to the outside, as is 
the cuse invariably at Constantinople ; the roof is so flat and so plain 
that the group of domes and semi -domes that crown it lose half the 
value, as far as size is concerned, and all the jMX'tr}' they might possess, 
if jrrowinir naturallv out of the constniction Mow. Add to this that 
the details are in a bad, ill-undei-stood Corinthian style, mingled with 
Pointed arches and Rococo ornaments of all sorts, and it will be easy 
to undei-stand how even the noblest desijrn mav have Ix^n destroyed. 

* It iu, ill fact, n npi-oduction on a lure given to a plan of the building 

M)mewhat smaller scale of the Mo^que kiiKlly pn^cured for lue by the Rev. Geo. 

of Ahmed at dnstantinople (' History of Washington, chupla.n ut Cairo, and to 

Arcliitt'clure,* Woodcut 942). niv own subsequent personal observation. 

' 1 am indebteil for the diniensioos * See Introduction, pp. 33 to 37. 



Iiihriiiilly, tliL- i-ffict is ivry iiiuil] more jiU-iiniiij;. The liirlit, 

tlioii^rli siiIhIiii-'I. is siitfi<-ii-]it : tliu iiiiiti-niils rich, itiid the colouring' is 
nut iitTr'tiiiivi' ; ulijli- till- [ilaii iini) iiiihU- of nxifiiiir lir (1<iiik-s hiiiI 
w.-nii-il()rins is siii-li tliit fvcu ii I.fViiiii iiic i-duld litinllv uptiil ii, Tlie 
iHiTlsi-illlclirc iif iill llii-i is lli;il, lis nil iiiiiTiiir, ihls iiirjsnn- witi staiiil 
H I'liiiiiKii'isiiii uitU iiliiiDst liny litiililin^' in Kiin))K.' nf its mvii iijit.-. 

Thi' iviil liitrnvm-t.-. Ik.iv.-vlt. U-iwwn ihis iiKWjm- in tin- ritaiU 
!iii<) Llii- iilik-r niiisi[in.-s in ihi- <iiy nf ('uiio Ib^Iow, (\ih.-h ni.r i-xist in 
I'ithiT iliu liimiriisiiuis m- iIim iiri;.'iii:il i-i'Tici'iniiiri of tlif Imililiiii,' so 
Hindi as in tliL' nn»li; of uiinyiiiL' it intu tITcci. In tlie iililvii tiiiie t!i« H.nil,! m.'n:ly h:..\' ,in-aiiu'..l las l.iiiMinu'. imilnhly vi-ry 
tiitfii as this .m.- is lui<l ..m. mi.I «<nil.l ImvL^ \.n,v\,Vt] ilmi ih.- rc.n- 
Mnminn slmiiM U- tnillifnl iin.l iniilifnlly ..>;;.i>s^>il l.i.tli insiiU- ami 
i.iii. AM 111.- iii.iuMiML'. "iili tlk^ -Miiir.ik liiM.'k.'K. Ac. wi.nM liav.. 
Uvii hnilt ill l.l.irk. miii. ;is ih. sii'u.imv [.n.-t^^ss..!. on.. I.lork w.nild 
li;ivv Ixvii h;iii.l-<l ,.y,-v U, <.iu' rnrvr lu U- r.jniplK,-,!. iiiioiIkt to 
iLii.rtlaT. \h- w.iiil.l tU.-ii have ,ni|,|..yMl tlir inlayiT on mv jwrt. 
th.- jKiinri'i' -.11 aTiiilliiT. i.ii<I ilii- -il.l.'v ulifiv iiis smin-; mi-lu 1« 
iv[uiii-cl : anil nil ili.-«- m-M ULikiiii: m^'flliLT. iwh ii niiisiiT in his 
"ivri .li']iarniii'nt. wunli) liavr imiilucTil that iimhi])lii-i[y (■(niihiiitd 
"iili unity «-,■ s.. niuHi ii.iniiiv ii. |] M l.iiil.linpi, Tlit inisfoiiuiie 

Chap. I. TURKEY : MOSQUES. 315 

is, this class of artist does not now exist in Cairo ; and the architect 
must put into his design as much thought as he has time for, or is 
capable of exerting, before he l)egins it. As he first conceives it, so it 
is erected, and when the crescent is put on tlie top of the dome the 
whole is considered complete. Surely we ought not, under these 
circumstances, to be surprised at the cold and unsatisfactoiT i-esult 
that is produce<l by this process in this instance.^ Yet it ])i-ol)ably 
pleases those that worship in it as much, if not more than the older 
buildings, which excite such admiration in our eyes ; but it can only 
do so in conscfjuence of its size and the richness of its materials ; and 
there is no surer sign of the de^ay of taste, or of a want of knowledge 
of the principles of Art, on the part of any people, than the assumption 
that these two qualities can ever l)e of any value except as mere 
vehicles for the expi-ession of the higher (qualities of taste and design 
which C4in alone make a work of xSit valuable. 

* On the right of the diawing is a cast- facturing towns. As it is veiy offensive 
iron clock-towor, whirh nnist, with the ' in its native lan^l, it will be nnderstcod 
luachirifry, have been orch red from some how much more bo it is in this situation ; 
tirm in liirmiiij^ham, aa the mouldings | but even then it is qui stionable 
and (Uconitions are all in that clnss of i it is in wor^e taste than the alabaster 
Gothic which wc» find adoniinc: steam- fountain occupying tl.e centre of the 
engines and water-tanks in our m:inn- court of the mosque. 

316 HlblUlti* OF MODERN ARCHlTECTUltE. Book VIII. 


ALTHorciH, from the wime strong conservative feeling;: connectea 
witli religions bnildings, the mosqnes of the Turks have hitheito, like 
thosL* of Lucknow and Delhi, escaped from the lowest stage of the 
copying school, the stmie assertion cannot Ikj made with regaixi to their 
palaces. The Ambassadors of the Western Powers have ei'ected for 
themsehes ]>alaces at Peni in styles jx-'cnliar to the various countries 
which they I'o present ; and the Sultans of Turkey have learnt to 
admire these, as thev have l>een taujrht to l)elieve in eveiT form of the 
civili-^ation of Western Eurojx*, and, moi*e than this, have employed 
the architects deputed to Imild the ambassadorial I'esidences to erect 
]wdaces for tlKinselves. 

The view (;n the next page of one of the Sultan's New Palaces on 
the Bosphorus is a fafr av.T.ige s|)ecimen of the productions of this new 
school. Instead of the old plan of designing every part with reference 
to the purjH)se to which it was to l)e applied, of making ever}* window 
and ]>iUar tell its own tale, anil of carving every detail with reference 
to the situation and the light in which it was to Ixi placed, we have here 
a design which any clever draftsman could complete in all essentials 
1 Kit ween sunrise and sunset, and which, when finished, would Ixi as 
suitable for the climate or the purposes of St. Petei-sburgh or Wash- 
ington as for a palace of a Turkish Sultan on the shores of the 
Bos]»horus ! Though there is no vulgarity and no gross archit<KJtural 
S(»lecism in tlie design, it would be difHcult to see how the art could 
well j-ink lower than the stage here represented. 

Another palace in Constantinople, which was in progress of erection 
by the late Sultan Aklul ^ledjid at the time of his death, fnmi the 
desi<rns of a young Armenian artist, named Balzan, is in many i-espects 
better than the last mentionwl, in some woi-se. As will l)e seen from 
the view, it is rich in detail and full o desiirn to an extent rarely found 
in modern buildings of the classical s<.'hool. It is more like a design in 
the IMateres(*o style of the Spanish architects of the IGth century than 
anything that has been <lone since that time, and if the details were 

CUAP. 11. 



t!ood ill themselves, or appropriate, the effect vrould he all that coultl he 
desired ; but it was a miBtake in the artist to adopt so much thnt was 
Classical, ai:d mix it with ao much opposed to all the principles of 
that style. 

Although, thei'efoiv, this second example has not the customhouse- 
like coldness of the firet desifru, it is near)}' as uiisatisfucton', tliou^h 
from very difTercut cniises. The first shows no evidence of thoujjht. 
and has hardly a anfficieiicy of ornament for its situation or its 
purp<.>se8. The second has an almost snpcrflnity of ornament, and 
also evinces a considcrahlc amount of desipi. It fails, hoH-ever, 
in producinfT the desired effect, bocnuge the principal part of the 

dftiiila are borrowed fiimi u foreij^u Classical style, and are used 
for ].Hr]x»8es for which they were not originally inU-nded : ami the 
jiju-ts whicli are added are such as neither acconi with the ori^'inal 
intention of the Ordeiu, nor with anrthirif: snjr!ie''tfd l.y the hnildiiiir 

The whole of the details >\n, in fact, evidently added for oniameni's 
sake, without any real reference to the coristniilive exifieucies of the 
Imildiiijr. nor in onler to adapt tlie foi-eisrn elements tu the ni't.vssiiies 
of tiie climate in which they arc employed ; neither jjave tliev anj- 
paiticnlar reference to the maimers nr customs of the Sniilime I' 
They halt K-tween all these : and the pn/Klcd aifhiteci has only 
exhihited the confusion of his own brain, while he had at his disiMjsul 


pple. From > Pholognph. 

moiiov, materials, miil mc'aiis to produce as ricli uud as Ixyiitiful u 
buildiiij; as any in Eiiroix.'. 

It is to bt fean-d tliat tliyre is too little vitality left in the Turks 
or in the Turkisli Empire to lio]ic that, in Europe at least, they eaii 
ever rise ajniiii to such a decree of ]wwer an to be able to shake oflf 
this state of dejiendcnce on the aits and iiifluenets of the West. 
They Iiave not yet sunk so low as the iviftchctl Naivaulis of Oude, 
and tlieir An-hitecture is still Ixitter than that of Luekuoiv ; hut It 
sitiiis as if they were sinkinsr into the jKisitiun of a protected state; 
and pi-ote<.!tion is only another woi-d for defrmdatiDn that sooner or 
lat«r must lead to extinction. 

In Eurojie the Tnrks ha\-e liecn too mixed a j>coplc, too little at 
home, and too insecure in their possessions, to have ever done much 
for Art, notwithstanding the instincts of their nice, and their es- 
pnlsion would now be no loss in this respei^t ; though neither the 

Chap. U. TURKEY : PALACES. 319 

Greeks nor any of the su])ject nationalities who might sacceed them 
seem at all likely to surpass them in this respect. Up to tliis moment 
at least the Greeks of the Levant have not shown the smallest apti- 
tude for Art in any of its forms ; and although Avith more leisure and 
better opjwrtunities there may Ixi a prospect of imi)ix)vement, even 
this at pi-esent seems very doubtful. 





M E X I C 0. 

The 8tei)8 by which the Chissic styles were introduced into America 
by the 8])aniards wei*e identical with tliose which led the Poitnuriiese 
to adopt it as their style of architectnre in the Eiist, and tlie ixsults 
were pnictically tlie same in l)oth countries. 

Religious enthusiasm was at its heiirht in Spiin at the time when 
the New World was discovered bv Columbus ; and the enormous 
wealth acr|uii*ed by the con(]uest of Mexico and Peru, whether 
resulting from plunder or from the successful working of the mines, 
naturally led so pnest-favouring a j>eople to dedii^ate a considerable 
poiti<m of their newly-actpiiivd wealth to religious purj^oses. The 
conse(|uence was that verv soon everv citv in the New World built its 
cathedral, every town its churches, and every hacienda its chajxil ; but 
it is, j>erhai>s, not unjust to say that not one of them wiis in any degi-ee 
remarkable for Ixiautv of architectund desiirn. 

It has already l)een ]X)inted out how inartistic the Spaniards had 
shown themselves in deaUng with the Renaissimce styles in their own 
country, notwithstanding the assistiince they obtained from the artists 
of Italy and France, and it could hardly l)e exiHicted that they would 
do even as well in the New World. The priests, who, in nine cases 
out of ten, were the architectts therc, had none of them rcceived the 
necessary ])n)fessional education. Thev had a certain recollection of 
>vhat was done in their own (country, and may have ]K)ssessed imper- 
fect drawings of the morc celebrated (;hurciies of their day. But to 
adapt these to altere<l circumstances, and to carry them out in detail 
with native — or at least with local — artists, was as ilitficult (if uot 
more so) as to make a new design. The consetpience is that most of 
the churches of New Spain, though many are remarkable for their 

€hap. I. 



size and splendour, are aingnlarly plain in an archttectaral point of 
view ; on what is worae, vulgar and pretentious from an affectation 
of Classical Art, either misunderstood or misapplied. 

The largest and finest of all the churches erectwi in the New 
World is jierhaps the cathedra! of Mexico. It was commenced in 
the year 1578, in substitution of an older church which bad been 
erected by Feman Cortes, on the site of the ffK&b temple of Men- 
tcsunui. but was not fiiiislied till the year 1657. Ite dimenatons are 


very (.iin.sidtTablu, iiiasinnch as it is said to m-asurc .i04 ft. over all, 
cxteninlly, from north to south, and 22K ft., or very nearly 
the Banif liS those of St. Paul's. It lias five aisles, and the inter- 
soctiou of the nave and transepts is crowned liy an octagonal lantern, 
I'Ut only nf the same width as the i.'vnLml aisle. As it is understood 
that the desifrns for this cluirch Here sent out from Eui-oi>e, it avoids 
many of the faults which are so offensive in sonic of the other 
chuivhes of this city. Indeed the areJiiteetur.d aiTangenieiit of the 
interior may be called singularly happy for this cb\s8 of buildiug. 

VOL. 11. Y 


The entablaturt, ivliicli alwjivs formed the frreat stum bliiipr block of 
ait'hitects in tliiB Ptytc, is aUo<rt-ther oniitU'd : and the arches spring 
direct from the cajiitals of tlie Doric lialf-culiinnia. which are attached 
to the piers. It thus avoids most of tlie fanlts of onr Rt. Paul's, and 
even the size of the dome is intenially in I>etter proportion to the 
rest of the churcli, where there is a chancel lieyoud. If the dome 
ends the vistn, it may l>e of any size ; but in the middle of a omoiform 
church it throws everj- other part out of projxirtiou if its dimengionft 
are not kept moderate. 

nil iiiipusiiii:, (ieriia]i8 

ExliTiiiilly, [lie wt-steni f;ii, is u 
more so tluiii any SjBitiisli cliiin-Ji of the iijru and s. 
towers risin^L' to a heiirht -.f :{ii.-. ft. aiv really .u'nin.l feature:-, "solid 
Iwloiv, and taperin.L,' i>lertsinp:ly alHm-. Tlie cLTilml dome, it must lie 
confessed, looks mean eiaunially eoinpare-d with those found in Italian 
and French chiirehes : Init the Smniards- -except tit the Esciirinl — do 
not Bceni ever to have alfeciwi this featuiv. 

When we look at the immense ditfiei 

Chap. L AMERICA : MEXICO. 323 

ment which the introduction of a tall Italian dome superinduces, it 
becomes a question whether it really is a legitimate part of such a 
design ; but it is so noble that a good deal can be forgiven for it9 
sake. The external outline of the cathedral of Mexico is — barring 
its details — perhaps, one of the best proportioned examples of a 
church designed to dispense with this feature ; though it can hardly 
be doubted but that externally the loss of effect is considerable from 
this cause. Even if it must be admitted that the adaptation of the 
tall dome to the internal arrangement of a modem church has not 
Ijeen (juite successfully accomplished hitherto, there seems little doubt 
but that with the engineering talent of the present day that difficulty 
also might be overcome ; and that a great dome might be fitted to a 
nave, at least as wide as two-thirds of its diameter, without any 
offensive display of mechanical expedients. If this wei-e done with 
judgment and taste, we should i)rol)ably have an architectural effect 
such as has not yet been seen ; but it is not to the New World we 
must look for anything so artistic or so desirable. 

As at Goa, some of the cloistere attached to the great monastic 
establishments of Mexico and elsewhere ai*e more pleasing specimens 
of Architectural Art than the churches to wliich they l)elong. One 
in ]:»arti(^ular, attached to the Convent of Na. 8a. de la Meixred, is as 
bright and as beautiful as that of Lupiana (Woodcut Xo. ^<9), or any- 
thing in Spain. It possesses that happy arrangement of two smaller 
arcades over one wider arch below, as in the Doge's Palace at Venice ; 
except that in this instance nothing has l)een put over them, and as 
the whole detail is rich and elal)orate, the effect is extremely pleasing. 

There are no public buildings in the city of IMexico i-eniarkable as 
Architectural designs. Many are large and highly ornamented, but 
they are only .bad copies of buildings at home, having no local pecu- 
liarity to distinguish them from those of the mother countr}', except 
what is nnivei-sal in colonial design — that cluuLsiness in executing 
tlie various details and profiling the Classical moulding, which so 
shocks aiiv one who has imbued himself with the lunuitv of Classical 
Art in this i"esi)ect. 

Y 2 




The cathedral of Ai*eqiiii>a, in Peni, is probably as good an 

c'xamplo as nmltl well U' chosen to illustrate the ix)sitiou of the 

ait of AiX'hiteeture in the eniancipate<l colonies of Si>ain at the 

invsent dav. The oriirinal cathedral was commenced in the veai* 
I • < « 

l()iM, from the desiLrns of an an'hitect named Andiva Espinosa, and 
was completed in H\'i{). This Imildinir was, however, almost entirely 
destrowd hv fire on the 1st of I)c<.vml>er, IS 14, shortly after which 
time I he rchnildini: wms connnmced, on tbe sjime plan and general 
out line as the former editiee, hnt with snch improvements in detail 
as the ]troi:nss in the knowledize of Architectural design seemed to 

As uill K* seen from tlie woodcut, the fa(^ade is of very con- 
siderable extent, and ilivided into live compailments by Corinthian 
pillars stiindiiiL^ upon a low hasement, but supportinir only a fnigment 
of an iMiabhitut'e. between these are two ranires of pillars standing 
one ujion the other, o^ the s:inie Order, but of coui'se only half the 
heiirht : and it is their comic*. — not that of the larirer Oixier — that 
crowns the buildinL^ This is jK'rhaps the only imi>ortiint instance 
known of this j'urioiis inversiiui of the Kuroi)ean principle of design, 
and it is s«» nearly sucivssful that a very little more would have 
made it ipiite so. If the lamer Coriniliian Order had only been used 
as s juare piers or buttresses, markim^ tlie divisions of the interior, 
their use would have been understood and their efftH^t most pleasing. 

A verv monumental etfect is also obtained bv the lower storev 
• • • 

l)einLr pieiced only by the entrances, and the U])|>er by a few well- 
pi'o}»ortioned windows widely spaced. The towers are jKU'hajie a 
little too low, but their form was ]>ro^':ibly tlie only one that ought 
to be adopted in a country s(» subject to eartlKjuakt's : and, even as it 
is, liiey are well ju'oportioned \o the leiiLah of tlu' facade to which 
they are attached, and their desiL'"n is pleasiuL*" and free from any 
inst:in<'e of bad taste. 

* For thi.x i!it(>riii:iti«»n, ami \\>r tin- Wfv^lout, I nin in<lelit«'d lo tlio kiiuluess of Mr. 
C'Knionth M;irkliam, tlie wtll-kiinwii author of ^ove^al wnrks on Peru, ttiul the 
intrfxlucir orl):.rk into hulia. 

Chap. it. AMKRH^.X : PEItU. 325 

Tlie fcabnivs thnt priririimlly (k-tiMf^t from tho liemity of tliia 
faijadt; arise from tlii! (iwiiliiiritv so often ivmurknl n|ioii iu the 
previous piijres, of men umiurtjikiiiir to (lesiErti in a stvli.' wiih nil 

Iho il.-f.'iils of wlii 


the same faults that a man would make who would attempt to write 
a poem iu Latin without knowing more than the mere radiments of 
the language. However grand and good their conceptions may be, 
they are marred by the defective mode in which they are expressed, 
and so it always will be till men learn to build as they write — in the 




When we turn from what was done in Mexico and Peni to examine 
the Architectiiml forms of the Unit^ States of North America, we 
Ijeconie iiisUmtly aware of the enormous difference of mce and religion 
that prevails lK?tween the two great sections of that continent. 

The old Scandinavian or Dutch settlers built their meeting- 
house's for prayer, or their neat quaint dwellings, in utter ignorance 
of the pi'ecepts of Palliidio, and with the same supreme contempt 
for McMlia-xal Ait as it prevailed in EurojK; for three centuries after 
it ceased to lie a real ait ; and the Puritan Pilgrim Fathers, who 
followed and sujx*rseded them, showed the same Anglo-Saxon in- 
difference to Aix'hitectuml ornament as has characterised their race 
at ail times, except when their national vanity is picjued hito rivalry 
with some other nation of more artistic^ tendeneies. The conse- 
ijueiuv of this was, that from the time of the earliest colonisation of 
thi^ eountry, till after the termination of the war of lS12-l-t, there 
was hardly one single building ere*cted in Noithern America which is 
wcrihy of being mentioned as an example of Architectural Art. 

AVhen after the termination of that war it Ixjcame the *' manifest 
destiny '* of the United States to sui'j)ass all the nations of the earth 
in Art as in everything else, they set alnjut doing something to justify 
the boast they were so fond of proclaiming. 

Hitherto their attempts have been less successful than even those 
of the mother countiT ; and there is with them less pros}K)ct of im- 
provement than with us. An American has a gre*at deal too much 
to do, and is always in too great a hurry to do it, ever to submit to 
the long, patient study and discipline reMjuisite to master any one 
style of Architecture perfectly. Still less is he likely to stibmit to 
that amount of self -negation which is indispensable if a man would 
attempt to l)e original. Why should he stop to design each detail to 
the plaee it is intended to occupy ? Why should he try to proportion 
every juirt hannoniously, or to apply each ornament appropriately ? 
Vr[\y submit to all tliis drudgery, when Classic pillars and Gothic 
pinnacles stuck on ad libitum get over all difficulties, and satisfy 
liimself and his employers ? The perfection of Art in an American's 


eyes would be attained by the invention of a self-actinj? machine, 
which should produce plans of cities and designs for Gothic churches 
or Classic municipal buildings, at so much yev foot super, and so save 
all further trouble or thought. 

The planning of cities has in America Ixicn always practically 
performed by these means ; the process l)eing to take a sheet of 
machine-ruled paper, and, determining the scale that is to Ixj used, 
to divide the whole into equal squarc^s, easily staked out, and the 
contents of which are easily computed. Whether the ground is flat 
or undulating — whether the river or shore on which it is situated is 
straight or curved — whatever the accident of the situation, or the 
convenience of traffic — this simple plan enables any man to lay out 
a city in a morning ; and if he can do this, why should he spend 
weeks or months in carefully contouring the ground ? Why pro- 
portion his streets to the traffic they are intended to convey ? Why 
draw complicated curves so difficult to set out, and so puzzling to 
calculate ? Why, in short, think, when the thing can be done 
without thought ? It is in vain to urge that by this process the 
most prosaic ugliness has Ixjcn stamped on every city of the Union 
hitherto laid out, when, l)y a little juiins and a little more thought, 
far more beautiful and more convenient cities mii(ht have been 
produced. This may l)e true ; but the lii-st process answers all the 
purposes of a people who have so little feeling for Art that they do not 
perceive its deformity. The latter requires both time and thought, 
and why should they exjiend theirs upon it while the other supplies 
their wants ? ^ 

The same system prevails in their buildings. If not so absolutely 
mechanical as their plans, it is still true that their principal drawing 
instrument is a pair of scissors ; and a machine might guide these 
ahnost as well as a human hand, were it not that after Imwg pinned 
together the design must generally be atteimated and pared down to 
suit the pecuniary exigencies of the case. Notwithstanding the 
defects of their system, the Americans have lately shown a great 

* Thoiigli tho Americans Iiave carried GuienDe and elsewhere in France, were 

this principle to excessj, it must be ton- as formal as New York or Philadelphia ; 

fessed that all cities wliich have been and in the dark aj^es of our Art we* 

founded have more or k-sa of this ree- admired the plan of the new t'^wn of 

tangular ugliness, which is only avoided Edinburgh. In laying out towns, this 

in those which grow. The cities which modo of pn)C*Hding may be useful as 

the Greek colonists founded in Asia avoiding some practical ditliculties ; but 

Minor, or on the shores of the Blaek it certainly is absolutely destructive of all 

Sea. were all more or les^ rectangular, pictnresqueiiess or beauty; and no city 

Alexandria was completely so. The so jirranged can ever display with pleasing 

cities tlieliomans founded in this country ifW'ci such specimens of Architectural 

were generally rectangular in plan. The Art as it may posscHs. 
Bastidos, which our Edward founded at I 

Chap. III. AMERICA : NORTH. 329 

clcsiit* to display their wealth- in architectural ma^ificeiicc, and to 
rival the Old World iii this respect ; and have produced some very 
showy buildings, but ccrtahily not one that can be seriously com- 
mended as an artistic design, and still less any one which can be 
quoted as a well-thought-out expression of a mind imbued with 
architectural taste and knowledge. 




The principal edifice in the United States of America, or, at least, 
the one of which they are most pix)ud, is tlie Capitol at Washin^on, 
which would be an ornament to any city, though scarcely deserving 
all the pmise that has l)een bestowed uiK)n it. 

"The original design of the Capitol was piirtly by Dr. William 
Thornton and partly by Mr. H. H. Latrobe. The corner ( ? foundation) 
stone was laid by General Washinirton in September, 1703, and the 
original building wtis completed under the supeiintendence of Mr. C. 
Bulfinch, as archit^Kit, in 183(>."^ This building, however, oidy ex- 
tended :^r)2 feet north and south, and was comprised in the centre block 
shown in the accom^ninying plan (Woodcut No. 284). Recently two 
wings have l)een added to it, nioixi than dcmbling its extent, and it 
now measures ()H0 feet north and south by 280 east and wtst. across 
the central porti<;oes (Woodcut No. 285). The central dome, too, 
though pait of the original design, has only just l)een com])leted, and, 
with these additions, it is, with the exception of our Parliament 
Houses, the most extensive and most highly ornamented legislative 
pdiK'-e in the world. 

The general ordinance of the architec^ture of the Capitol somewhat 
resembles that of our Somerset House, which, l)eing then the fashion- 
able building of the day, no doubt influenced the design. The Imse- 
ment, however, in the English example, is l)ettcr pro]H)itioned to the 
Order ; the nistication, esix'cially of the arches, in the American 
building is painfully bad, and detracts gR^itly from the iK'auty of the 
whole. The great featuiu*^, however, of the Capitol are the splendid 
ranges of porticoes of fixx'-stamling ])illars which mloru all its fronts, 
especially the eastern, and the magnificent flights of ste]>s that lead 
up to them. 148 Corinthian columns ai*e so employed, each 30 ft>et in 
height, exclusive of the box bases, which had far better l)een omitted ; 
while their jK^diments, and the various bi-eaks in the building, give 
a variety of outline to the whole, and a play of light and shade hardly 
to be found in any other building of its class. 

' Owen's 'Hints on Public Archittcture/ p. 0. 4to. New York, 1S49. 

Chap. IV. 



The gi'eat feature of the whole, however, is the dome, Bhown in ele- 
vation and section in the wooilcnt on page &0.S. The total height from 
the ground-lino to the apes of the statue is 287 ft, 5 in,, and the internal 
diameter of the rotunda la 94 ft. 2 in.* It is thus rather more than one- 
tenth lesa than our St. Paul'B, from which it is evidently co]iied, hnt 
in some other respt^^ts its design may Iw considered as ecjuul if not 
superior. Its stylobate certainly is better than that of any dome 
of its class yet executed, and on the whole it certainly rist« as 
pleasingly from its snbstmctnre as any similar dome. One of its 
most remarkable peculiarities is that the whole above the stylobato 



V«» <»"iii-;^J 

is of cnBt (ir ivrouirlit iniri. Xo wood and no stone is uslkI anywhere. 
The alwence of tlic fnrniei- niatci-inl certainly insures it afminst fire ; 
hnt it was an nnp'iRl<itinble eiTiir to empldv fcirnis so purely lithic 
and so appropriiite to stone urclntwtuiv, and tlmt t(M> only, if inm was 
to hv used. As it is, however, the Corinthian pillars of the ])eriatylc 
with their entablatui-e. and all the external and iiiternul ornaments 
np to the sbitne of Oolnmbin, are only nist inm ]inintfil in imitation 
of stone, niien the Capitol was fn-i;rinally conmieuced. a dome s-.nie- 
thinf; of this form and of these dimensions no diinht fomiud i>iirt. of 

' Tlu'wo ilimedBirins, with (lip wcndontg plinlo^roiilisof tlmoriiiiniil workinciirnw- 
Dow phen. may, I WliCT.-, be nh-'iliitoly iiis«,l(iinll>- [irocunil for me bj- my friend 
dtpcnili'd uixin. Thty urc taken from Dr. Terry. 



Sevtlmi, of tlw Ct-fiM M Wnablngton, from OfflcUl PIidb. 

tlie design : bnt then it vaa intended, of coiii-iit;. to lie in stone uiid 
wood, like that of St. Fiiurs. Wlieii, howuver, it iviis dctenuiiied to sub- 
stitute iron it wiis andoabtedly a mistake not ut oucc to iiiti'oducu fomiB 


more appix)priatc to the material. Had ther, for instance, adopted 
a ciaie like tliat erected by Mr. Scott Russell for the Vienna Exhibition, 
they nii^^ht have had a liall at least twice the diameter, and quite as 
ca{>able of ornamental effect as tliis, for far less money, and one that 
would not in any way have interfered with the effect of the building, 
which this one does to a considerable extent. 

Inteniallv, the Rotunda is certainly even much less successful than 
it is externally. In the firet place, a circular room 04 ft. in diameter, 
with only four small doors lejidinfr into it lu and 18 ft. high and 4 and 
6 ft. wide, while the room itself is IXo feet in height, is an architectural 
solecism that no amount of art could redeem ; and in this instance the 
extreme plainness of the lower part — there arc only twelve very 
commoni>lace pilastere with a few panels — comj^arcKl with the richness 
of the upixT put, rc*n(lers the alwunlity still morc* glaring. If Barry's 
c*entral hall of our Parliament Houses (Woodcut No. 21 H) had only been 
a little niorc equal to it in horizontal dimensions, it would have Ixien 
as suj»erior to this in projjortion, in aiTangement of jmrts, and in orna- 
mentatitm, as it is possible to conceive one design surjwissing another. 

It would \k' extremely interc^sting if it werc ]K)ssible to institute 
a conii«irison K'twcen the Capitol at WashiuLTton and our own Parlia- 
ment Houses. Their pur|M)ses are identical, their dimensions not 
dissimilar, and tlieir ages near enough for them to l)e called buildings 
of the same generation. Notwithstanding this, the whole principle 
on wliieh the nne is designed is so unlike that of the other, that it is 
hardly ]K)ssil)le to compare the one with the other. It is like com- 
IKiring tin." Paitheiion at Athens with St. <ieorgeV ('hajKd at Windsor. 
Their dinie:isions are nearly the SJime, the intereolumniations alike, 
the imqM^ses identical, but how can a comparison l>e instituted ? In 
the one the exterior is the main feature, in the other it is the interior. 
The (»ne is remarkable for its simple purity, the other for its com])lex 
variety : while the feelings the one was erected to exprc^ss fire as 
nearly diametrically (»piM»sed as can l)e to those portrayed in the other. 

There are the same differences Ijetween the two buildings now 
under discnssion, tlmugh arising only from fashion, not from faith. 
The Roman was the style in vogue when the Ca])itol was designed, 
the <ioihic when the Parliament Houses were commenceil,^ and it was 
this fashion, and not the fitness of either style, that governed the 
design. It thus hapiKMis that a coin|>jirison l)etween the two buildings 
hardly aids in si'itling the question whetiier the Classic or Gothic is 
Ixrst suited for the pui'])ose, the fact l)eing that both are wrong ; and 
we cannot eonse(iuently institute any reasonable conqxirison between 

* By the time Parliament Houses be- her senate will sit in a proper Dragon 
coMie mcesnities at St. Petershursjh, it is Hall. It ran hardly he said that thi« 
prolrtible that ChineHe will l)etlie t'asliion- ; would \io much more absurd than the 
able style, in Russia at least, and tliat j American and English anachrunisma. 

Chap. IV. 



them in this respect. On one point, however, we can aee how }xAh 
erred from mistaken ambition based on ill-nnderstood principles. 
Barrj- ruined his design from introducing a Rrobdingn^ian tower, in 
three ston'vt) ftOd ft. iii^height, attached to fa^es of three and four 
fltoreys, but hardly reacliing 100 ft. in height. It wa» proclaiming 
the war of the pigmies and giants, which could only end in being 
ridiculous. Had he doubled the diameter of his central hall, and 
doubled the height of the spire over it (see Woodcut No. 218), it 
would hare interfered with nothing, but have added dignity to his 

m. Vllir of Ihe C*rli°l *• ^S'»llll1Kl<>^<. u It no« It. 

buildiiig. So would a high iron structure to the Capitol, however 
high or Ini^ it might be ; but to add a dome nearly as large as that 
of our St. Paul's to a building which is cvfryivljere seen to be only a 
tliroe-stoR'yed civic edifice, wub simi)ly to crash the whole, and make 
thai look insignificant ' which might otlierwise have been quite 
dignifitil ciiongli for iis iiurposes. 

' A I'lirinuK illuatratinti of this nay bo erected orer it, macli In tlie Mue pio- 

eeeu in lArxlmi. Tlio hngjiitat nf litdli- portion In it hs llie WosliiDgtno dome la 

lelipm liiiil ori^-iiially only ii porlirc. in irg lo its portico. The oiillincB of the build- 

ceDtrt'. of □« greiiC Ixrouly ccrtaiiily. liiit inn mny be improved by ttie nddition, bat 

pleasing because witl proportioned to lli» portico ia unubed niiil hwi bettei be 

tbe building. Latterly a dome lina beun removeil. 



Taking it all in all, however, there are few buildings erected in 
modem times which possess to a greater exteut than the Capitol at 
Washington appropriateness of purpose combined with the dignity 
necessary for the senate honse of a great nation. It has not the variety 
and richn(.-ss of detail of our Parliament Houses, but it is a far statelier 
building, and its faults are those of the age in which it was com- 
menced, and which havu tied the hands of subeequeiit architects, and 
prevented them from using the improvements that have since been 
introduced in the arts of design ; but it wants only a very little to 
enable it to attain a verj' high ntnk among the buildings of its class 
in other parts of the world. 

The .Sniithsoaian Institute is another edifice of which the inha- 
bitants of Wasjiington arc nearly as proud as they are of their Capitol. 
though it differs from tliat building us nuich us aiiy om- can differ 
from another— rude, irreguliir Mediieialism JNiiug hun.- thought the 
perfection of Art, instead of the elegant Chissicsil fonnality of the 
Capitol. It is of considerable extent, lieini: 447 ft. loii^', with au 
average bresidth of about C,V. -. and one of (he towers — there are eight 
or tun of these, of various shajKis and sizes— ivaches u height of 141 ft. 

Chap. IV. 



Its ffeiitra] plan is tliat of an abbey church ; the centre block — the 
nave — is occupied by the Library betow, tlic Museum above. The 
transept ooiitiiins the mineralopical collection and the Regent's rooms ; 
wliat appears at one end to be an apsidal chapel externally, turns oat 
to be a Oallcry of Art, and this is Italanccd at the other end by 
a gronp of lecture-rooma and other conveniences. The style is 
Norman, though of a class that irould have astonished a barou or 
a bishop of the eleventh or twelfth centuries, and resembles one of 
their bnitdings as much as the PaviUon at Brighton resembles the 
tomb of iluckdoom Shah Dowlut, from which it is said to be copied. 
The annexed woodcut, representing an octagonal tower at the jnnctiou 
of the Library and Art Gallery, is a fair illnstration of the style. It 
is one of the beet of thoBc which are supposed to adorn the building. 


In wonderful contrast to the broken outline and studied irre- 
gularity of the Sinitlisouian Listitute is the cold machine-designed 
uniformity of the Treasury Buildings just completed in the same city. 

In tiiis conntrj- we are generally content with putting two storeys 
of windows under one storey of pillars, though, once the ijillars 
liecume merely an ornament, there dot« not ecem any greater incon- 
gniity in putting a dozen. In the preaent instance there are three 
of very fomiuonplnce design, and without any apparent connection 
with the Order or the Onler ^with thera ; tliere ia nothing, in fact, 
to reileeni this design from tiu merest commonpluce — no l)eauty 
of f<trin oi' of outline — and the portico in no way liamionises with the 
witiL's. It ia, liowex'er, far more appropriate to a city designed after 
the fashion of a chess l)o:ird, than such an ini;gular building as t!ie 
Smitljsuiiian Institute. 

VOL. II. z 




ANOTHER educational iiislitntion, of wliich the Amcncans are equally 
proud, is the Oiranl College, Philadel|>bia. It in designed on prin- 
ciples 80 totullj different from those tliiit governcrl the desigQ of the 
Smithsonian Inatitutc, tlint cither the word ArchiU-cture has a thousand 
meanin<rs, or those who built it did not uiidtTstand tlie term. In 
this instance, instead of florid Xonnan, the exterior is that of & 

O'lkgr. Pbllwlelplilt 

Ronuin temple ilH- ft. lonj;, but with the ratiier disproixirtionatc 
excess in width of loll ft. The L-olunius art I! ft. in dinnifter and 
fl5 in height. Being of niarlile, it would n.-.i\]\- K- a very fair kind of 
Wulhalla, wtre it uot that where the Cella ought to have lieen, we have 
instead a very ordinary (nu union pi ace two-slnreyed college buildinjf 
encloswl in a ciige of pillars. 

The United Statw Itjiiik in the ssinii/ city is a gmnd fSrcciau Uoric 
teinpic — at one end at k-ust^bnt with the same Iwii storeys thronghout 
in the Cclla, with the additional incongniity that the npi>er stoi'ey haa 
small, B<inare, lieduKini-like windows, wliieh gi\-e a great ap[varance 
of meanni-ss to the whole. Thougli the Exchange of Philadelphia 
possesses all thesu; solecisms, it is a far more jileasing specimen. Its 


circular colonnade, ita belfry and geneml arrangement, evince an amount 
of thought and design seldom fonnd in this country, and, the details 
being Corinthian, it ie saved from either vulgarity or meatiuess, though 
it has not any real architectural importance. 

There are a numlier of buildings of this class in the various cities 
of the Union, some of which are big, some rich, but not one, so far as is 
known in Europe, either remarkable for the design of its outline or the 
appropriateness of its details. The edifices on which the Aniericaufl 
have lavished their utmost onergies are the Stat* Capitols, in Hhich the 
representatives of each of the indcpcDdent States meet in Pttrliament. 

State Capltul. Ohhi. 

One of the most recent and most lulmired, after that of Wiisbiiigton, is 
the one just completed for Oliio. This time the Order is Doric, iind the 
desigii^-or outline, at least — an severe as could be desired : Imt the 
usual two storeys of windows, the chimneys, and other a]i|>endages 
which will not he hid, jjetray the fact that \re are not looking at a 
temple, but a secular building «f modern date which its architect 
scjueezcd into thif< mould in onlcr to save himself trouble and the 
necessity of thinking. 

Most of the older Ctqiitols have not the Kanic pretensions as this 
one. and cflcajK: criticism accordingly ; but wherever ornunient is 
cmi)loyod, it is badly executed by the hands of aniateuii-. and in a 
country where the necessary means did not exist for even architects 
— if they hail existed — to study and to inform themselves correctly 
as to wliat was really the right and proper course to pursue. 




The Americans have probably even been less successful in their 
churches than in their secular buildings ; and, considering how little 
ecclesiastical establishments enter into their system as compared with 
civil government, this is not to be wondered at. 

Down to a very late ]jeriod America did not possess a single 
church tliat could rank higher than an ordinary parish church of the 
Hawksmoor or Gibl^' 8(.^hool, and none so splendid as St. Martin's-in- 
the-Fields, St. George's Hanover Sijuare, or any of our buildings of 
that class. Latterly, however, they have followed our footsteps iu 
abandoning the Italian style in churches, and have adopted the 
so-called (iothic, though in this res])ect they are hardly so much 
advanced even now as we were twenty or thirty years ago, and are only 
getting through the sort of dilettanti amateur business that we shook 
off at that time. 

The American architects, however, lal>our under peculiar difficulties 
in this respect ; they have not that crowd of examples which meet an 
Enghshman at every turn, and which he can study at all times without 
any effort : so that, once he has thoroughly imbilxjd the spirit of the 
old exampk's, it is very difficult for him to do wrong. If it were 
|K)ssible to conceive the Americans taking the time and»trouble neces- 
sary to think out a connnon-sense style, this ought to be an advantage, 
and they might really l)ecome the authors of a new fonn of Art ; but 
witii a iK'ople in such a hurry it is fatal ; and they not only copy, but 
co]»y without undei-standing — a reproach that Ciinnot noir be apphed to 

our an'hitcrts in this countrv. 


One of tlie most ornate churchis they have yet en.'ctcKl is the 
so-called (trace Church in New York. If richness of ornamentation 
could make a building Ixiiutifnl, it certainly is a])i)lie<l here in 
abundance. But the plan of tlie churcli is a mistake. A double-aisled 
transept is a feature l»elonging only to a cathedra' : as applied here 
it dwarfs tlu? whole and makes the design entirely inap]>ropriate for a 
moderate-sized jmrish chuix-h. Tlie spire also is far too high, too 
large for the rest. Internally the whole is vaulted (in j)laster), and 
ever}* feature such as would only be a])i»li(nible to a more ambitious 


Or»M Chnrch, Ssw Tort. 

class of edifice, and, even tlieit, hardly to be found in so late a 

Calvary Church is a still more characteristic thouKl' much-adniired 
usamplo. It possesses two wustern spires, as at Colo;:iie ; but the 
optn-work of the upper_pnrt is only |wiiit«l deal. And tlic Clitirch of 
the Holy Redeemur, in Third Street, iu a sort of Russo-Loiiiliardic style, 
it is extremely difficult to criticise. 

(tuc great attempt at originality and mafnaificence the Americans 
cortaiuly luivc made in the two temples which the ilormons have 
deai^nctl as the high placu'S of their rclifrion. It Is not i|Uite clear that 
the Temple ut Xauvoo was. ever completed, thonfrh in several Iwoka 
illustmtions of it were ))ublishe<l. At all events, whatever was erected 
is now destroyed ; and that at Utah, which is meant to he a ^reiib 


improvement on the orinrinal design, is certainly, externally at least, 
the ujrliest that ever was designed in any place and by any set of men 
for sui^h a puqx«e. The dimensions of these temples in plan were, 
however, very considenible, and their height in proportion. That at 
Nanvoo, though intended, internally, to be only one hall, externally was 
four or ii\'e storeys in height, and resembled the Town-hall at Louvain 
more than any other building in Europe ; but to make the resemblance 
at all complete, it is nec^essar}' to rwilize the Belgian example carried 
out in ])Ui6ter in the details of the Strawlxjrry Hill style of Gotliic, 
and with every solecism which ignorance of the style and vulgarity 
of feeling can intnKluce into a design. 

ThcR* is nothing in Eurojxj so l)ad in an architectural point of 
view as these tem])les ; but, on a small scale, many of the American 
churches are nearly iis inartistic, though, from their less preten- 
tious dimensions, they are not so t)ffensive. All that, in fact, cjm 
be said with ivgard to them Ls, that, whatever faults we have committed 
in this rt'Si^ect, the Americans have exaggerated them ; and the disap- 
pointing part is, that they do not evince tlie least tendency to shake off 
our erroi-s in copying, which, in a new and free countiy, they might 
easilv have done, while it nuLst obviouslv l)e more difficult for us, 
where time and association have so Siinctified the forms we are re- 

Some recent ]>tiragraplis in American pajx-rs (1S7;)) have announced 
that they are erecting, or are about to erect, in New York and elsewhere, 
some churches which are not only to suqiass all they have done in 
this line before in America, but also, it is hinted, set an examj)le that 
EuroiH.* niiglit follow with advantage. liCt us ho}H3 it may Ini so, but 
till they publish some work with the recpiisite illustrations, or that 
pht>to«rra])by is enlisted to su|»|)ly the necessary confirmation, we nnist 
be allowed to pjiuse before expressing any opinion regarding them. 




[Apologv. — So much is now well known to us of the condition of 
Anhitecture in the great North American llepu})lic, where so little 
seems to have been in any way appii'ciated twenty years ago, that 
a s]H.rial ajiology ought to l)e offered, if only in justice to our author, 
for the hasty o])init)n8 which he expresses so freely. In pm'suance of 
the plan of editorship which has been adopted, nothing of the original 
text has l>een omitted or altered ; but, apart from this, it may he 
suggested that in the particular circumstances in which the architects of 
thf United States are placed, comparatively relieved from the control of 
Eur()i>ean tradition and discipline, rcmote from the influence of 
Euroi)ean examj)le, and accustomed to great lilxTty of language, it is 
])robably not to Ixi desired by themselves that the severe but always 
shi*ewd criticisms of so plain-sixjaking a writer should have the vigour of 
their authenticity al)ated. Those who on one side of tlie ocean are 
proud of American development Ixicause it is their own, and those who 
on the other ai^e almost as deeply interested in it l)ec4iuse it belongs to 
tht'ir kindred, can equally accept and enjoy the contrast between what 
was thus written, certainly with sincerity, oidy a few years ago, and 
what has to l)e written with the same sincerity now ; and perhaps it 
may l)e added that the censure of a man like Fergusson, applied as it is 
to America only on precisely the same grounds and for precisely the 
Siimc shortcomings — and indeed in the same language — as to Europe, 
may possibly have more effect for good in the one case, where the mind 
of the artistic classes is so larsrelv lil)erated from those confirmed 
per\ei"sities which still pi^ess all too heavily in the other. 

No doubt a thoroughbred American utilitarian is a sufficiently 
stublK)ni PhiUstine so far as he chooses to go. But it is a great 
mistake to supjKJse that he is unable to stop where he sees reason so to 
do : and any fairly representative man, when he is enabled to under- 
stand ^hat something tangible and practical in art is offered for popular 
gratification, eidightenment, or culture, or for patriotic pride, will probably 
apjueeiate its value to the peo])le as a possession, an exam])le, and an 
influence, a good deal more readily than a man of the same educational, 
stiitus in any of the old countries, ej^cepting France alone. No one 


who has ever stoorl on American soil, even lonj; tx^o^ or who ha^ enjoyed 
occasional intent )nrse with Americans, however nnassumin^^ in ivspect of 
accompHslnnents, can help ixirceiving the undeniable fact that westward 
the tide of empii-e is still holdinjj: it« way. The fact is e(pially undeni- 
able, as a source of satisfaction to oui'selves, that it is an An<rlo-Saxon 
civilisation that is l)enig develof)ed in that wonderful land. Ait tells 
the story : and architecture expressly, as it always does. 

Early Coxditiox of AMEincAX Architecture.— Up to the 
early pirt of the present (century the Architecture of the United States, 
it will be frankly confessed, had not veiy much merit ; but it may Iki 
said fairlv enough that in England the art was not so verv nuich farther 
advanced as it ought to have Ikhux. When Trinitv Church in the 
Brojidway of New York (Plate 202^0 ^^'*is finished by r]>john about 
1848, it was the only exam]>le of (Jothic work in the country that 
possessed the iniiHjrfect merits of the ordinary English church-work of 
the dav — which Pugin, bv the wav, was then so vehementlv denouncinir. 
Ec(?lesiastical design generally — all "denominations" l)eing lM>th free 
and ecjual in the most generous sense of the terms — was of the simple 
utilitarian English Nonconformist Order ; exhibiting in some cases 
good substantial (juasi-academical style, more freipiently the style of the 
quakerish meeting-house, occasionally not <lespising a cast iron steeple 
(as in Plate 21)2), and \cry freipiently indeed resting content with 
boarding for the walls and with shingles for the roof. In the Northern 
cities there were public buildings of the standard European ty|H\ with a 
Palladian fa(;ade, a (Jreek portico, an Egyptian pronaos, or anything else 
that took one's faiury in the l)ooks. (Jreat hotels, although not so large 
as those of later date, were of the ordinarv barrack order : and stJU'es — 
that is, shoi)S and warehouses — and ])rivate dwellings were sometimes 
built of stone or brick in the common English way, and sometimes of 
W(xxlen fnimework and boarding. In the Southern States, the t'hief 
diffei-ence was that the ancestral families moi*e fretpiently possessed 
countiy i"esidencei?, and occasionally town-houses, which in their way, 
and on a small scale, were more like those of the English gentry ; the 
ecclesiastical and nuinicipd edifices lx*ing very nnich the same as 
in the North. In both divisions of the country alike, professional 
archite(*ts were few in numl)er, and decidedlv bat'kward in aitistic 

Since that time several architectural influences have \kv\\ steadily at 
work ; properly educated immigrants have come into the country ; 
yoinig Americ4ins have studied in Euro|H.' : and the periodicals of 
England, France, and (termany — England espwially — an<U the 
photographei*s of the whole world at large, have sent over such an 
abundance of illustnitions of everv rlass of artistic work as lo leave 
nothing so far to l>e desired. Acting u|K)n the peculiarly unfetteivd 
intelligence of the native Americans, tlu^se motive-] k) Wei's, it is easy to 


ml IVSlths: :il><l .-Oi^^r |l|.-lillv. jjj M \.:m> nl' lli^- I'liinn. 

ii.w in Ik. f...m.l AriivniiM nivhii,rrs. :,ii.l ..^.lt.l|.^■> ..f 
Hiifi'iuiJ «..vk. iilv i!i ivsiu-i uf imlJvi.liul v.ilii.. 


destined as it was to awaken the energiirs of industrial art all o\er the 
glolx?, made its very first impression in America. The organisation of a 
Universal Exhibition to Ik) held in Nev; York in 1S.58, was inmiediately 
set on foot ; and if the material resources of the Old World weR* not at 
command, the mental activity and acuteness of the New went far to 
make up the deficiency. The effect upon architecture, althouirh 
develoi)ed in an American way, has l>cL'n of the same character as in 
Enirland. Academical tradition, haviiiir hut very feeble roots in 
America, was a consideration of little moment. On the other hand, the 
recognition of the divine right of the i)eopIe at large to the possession of 
all that Alt, amongst other things, could Ix; made to olTer them, and to 
its enjoyment on their own level without asking leave of some one in 
the air, was a doctrine that I'ecpiired no discussion at all. Xo doubt it 
must be admitted that the mass of the American ix'ople, in matters of 
Art, have moved slowly, are moving slowly still, and nuLSt continue to 
move slowly for some time to come ; but wIil'U we look, as we have to 
do in all such cases, at those sections of the comnumity which 
represent, allx'it in a strictly ]>opular way, its intellectual '* light and 
leading," then it is difficult to sav wherein at this moment America has 
any reason at all to be dissatisfied with her progress. 

That the modern Euroixan style of architecture had originally to be 
accepted as the standard mode was matter of necessity ; for the modern 
Euroi>ean form of civilisation is that ]>hasj of culture which America 
has historically reciived, and whose development on fresh and free soil 
— free from traditionarv ideas - is one of America's tasks in future 


history. Xor can it be objected to by even the most ambitiously 
indejxjudent of her sons that the great heritage of ex|K'rimental design 
which the nineteentii century has received from the jwist should 
constitute the material for fi'esh endeav()ui*s in the Xew World as well as 
in the Old. Perhai>s the time may not be coming soon when the Xew 
will strike upon a novel path. Perhaps the Old may have to lead the 
wav. The oriuiiialitv or new national in<liviln:ditv of the Aimlo-Saxon 

ft ft- «. > 

mce mav verv likely assert itself in Eudaiid tii-st, while America is vet 

ft ft' V ft< 

only in a state of prejwiration. P>ut the yoinig nation can afford to wait : 
and if she has at last to take up. with the vigour of youth, what her 
forennnier is to lay down in the fatiirne of age, her future career may 
be all the more profitable to maid<ind, iiud none the less honourable to 
herself. Taking the great democntic empire of the Iinlustrial Arts as 
one indisciimiiiate tot:d of intellectnal eiitei'prise, Anierici is in«lubitably 
making very good, and ]X3rhaps rapid, ])rogress : this is the real (jUe^tion 
for consideration : and it is enouirh to sav for ar<;hite<'ture, as onlv one 

ft ft 

among those Industrial Arts, if the chief of its class, that her progress is 
the sune as in the others. In all the forms except one or two in which 
the influence of wetilth has been excited in modern times u}X)n 
architectural ait, the j^eople of the United States have proved their 


jwssessioii of the most abundant resources, and have employeil them 
with the utmost liberality ; in the building, namely, of gi-eat national 
establishments at the public cost, luxurious residences for private 
citizens, and ambitious offices for commercial corporations. The 
monumental palaces of ostent-atious royalty, and the stupendous temples 
of dominating: faith, they do not recjuirc. 

After the War.— The grcat Civil War of the etirly eighteen hundred 
and sixties, with the consequent rcadjustment of the social conditions of 
tlie Republic, constituted the conmiencement of a new era of national 
development ; and a new chapter of national culture was ojHiiied in Art 
as in all else. It is so clearly within the peraonal recollection of even 
younj,^ men, that it is scarc*ely necessary to remind the reader of the 
signally mpid progi-ess which American artists have recHjntly K-en making 
in enmlation of the best artistic work of Europe. That iwintei's and 
s<nilptors of the highest asjarations have made their mark in the acade- 
mical exhibitions of Paris and London is well known and thomuirhlv 
appreciated ; and even if it were not the nile that the Arts mare*h 
together, the most cursory examination of the design of American 
buildings nuist siitisfy the Euroixian critic that are'hitects also of no less 
genius aiv busily at work in the great Transiitlantic cities. With re^ganl 
to the arts of detail or ** minor arts " of building, the same verdict 
may be pronounced, if the same prominence, at least in quantity, has not 
yet Ixjen attained in their dis])lay ; for indeed, in some of the luxurious 
end Kill ishments which have Ixxiu develo])cd in the private dwellings of her 
millionaires, and in the gmnd interiors of her public resorts, it is not too 
nmoh to say that all the resources of Euro[)eiin taste have fully and 
sucressfully emj)loyed. No doubt it has to l)e acknowle<lged that the 
IM'e-cK-cupition of the mind of the multitude by the unpiirallelod energy 
of nnnnifrcial luisiness, as a piramount sf>cial influence, tends to some 
extent in a direction contrary to the l>eneticial influence which is produced 
niM)n th<* Arts of a nation l>y the possession of a cultured class enjoying 
the repose of hereditary i<lleness : but even this drawback does not 
appear to afTL-c^t too seriously the success of those who as jirofessional 
desiirneis have the artistic ])rogress of the Tnmsatlantic commonwealth 
in their {Kji'sonal custody. The artists of tlie American cities, in a woixl, 
are advancing in efliciency every day, and tlie appreciative demand for 
their services is everv dav increasinir. 

It mav be convein'ent to admit, in a sense which the reader will easilv 
understand, that. i>revioiisly to the fresh start which the Tnited States 
took in the march of their historv at the elose of the war, the condition 
of architecture had not generally improved even iii the prinei]>al eities. 
Perhaps the Oirard College and the State Capitol of Ohio (Plates I'Do 
and 21)1) may l>c tiiken as fair exanqJes of the more stately class of 
pubhc buildings, anomalously and often ostentatiously academical with- 
out, and commensunitely inconvenient within. Even in those parts of 


the eoiintn' which had lK»cn com])ai*atively ixx-x^utly settled, audi edifices, 
large and costly, were frequently to Ikj met with, having very little 
artistic merit even when there might be a good deal of ambition ; but 
in New York, Philadelphia, Boston, and the other chief cities, tliere were 
many edifices of less imiK»rtance, and chiefly of a commercial character, 
which were more in conformitv with what was lieing done in London 
and Paris. The style most commonly atlopted in these buildings was, 
as matter of course, the Mcxlern European or oi*dinary Italian of the 
books ; and so far it is i)erhapa enough to my that the average American 
practititnier 'and the commonplace English practitioner of the pro- 
vincial tt)wns were nearlv on a level. As few if anv of even the leadei'S in 
London could pretend to approach in Clas.sic work the designers of Paris, 
and as no Frenchman at all could profess to comi^ixj with the English 
church -architects in Gothic, so the Americans, who had scarcely yet l)egun 
even to appreciate theiKH:uliar enthusiasm of either of these rival schools, 
were (juite entitled to be content to rank with the respecUible mediocrity 
of the world at large. Ui)john and Walter, and one or two others, had 
Ki^ome distinguished : their names were known abroad. Several European 
innnigmnts, also, whether as mastei's or assistants, were lx,»ginning to make 
their mark ; and a few native ])upils were l)eing sent to finish their 
education in London and Paris and to tmvel in Italy. But the general 
Innly of average architects consisted of the unambitious practical build- 
ing-survey oi*s of the trade, su])plying indiscriminately, by reference to 
pivcedents, indiffeivnt Classic and still more iuditferent Gothic to the 
order of simj>le men of business like themselves. 

When the jn-ocess of social resettlement after the war was fairly in 
progress, and the national mind was free to a)>ply itself with rejuvenated 
vigour to mattei-s of taste, the state of ai-chitectui-e in England and 
Fr.ince was certainly peculiar. In London there was to l)e witnessed at 
the height of its bitterness the curious conflict Ixitwec^n the (iothicists 
and the Classicists, which was knowji as *' the Battle of the Stvles ; '^ and 
in Paris the givat building enterprises of Najjoleon the Thinl were in 
full career. In Germany the dilettantism of King Ludwig at Munich 
had (lied away, and the great improvements in Berlin and Vienna were 
yet ill the future.- It was the unexampled ** ITausniannisation '' of the 
French capital, theivfore, and the inconiiu'ehensible struggle of the 
EuL^lish conti-ovei-sia lists, that chirflv furnished Americans with material 


for reflection. No Ilausniann was to arise in New York : nor was there 
any uround in B()ston u]K)n which to establish what Sc-otl so foix-ibly 
callejl the "two hostile camps'* of the London Institute. The inartistic 
eclectie feeling of mediocre business might not long continue in entire 
]H)sses>inn of the field, but jniblic ojunimi could hardly l>e ex pi'cted to 
sliajM' itself uimui either the strife of jesthetii; doctrinaires or the magni- 
ficence of Imperial extravagance. The endea\oni*s of the American 
designeis would evidently have to l.>e pursued for a time with consider- 


able patience, before the national architecture could hope to make any 
demonstration of individualitv, or even to assert itself at all in com- 
petition with the more advanced work of the Old World. 

Events move quickly, however, in America, and it was certainly not 
many yeai*s Ixifore the happy return of fraternity had ])egun to display 
its results in a marvellous development of national prosperity. The 
spre:id of the population over the immense territories of the west and 
south-west, even in its beginnings, was imexampled, and the accumulation 
of private wealth by conmiercial enterprise was almost more remarkable 
still. Architecture of com^ quickly responded to the demands of the 
situation. In the couwe of ten yeai-s or a little more we find going on 
in all parts of the Union, not mere*ly large investments of capital in 
building, and not merely ambitious efforts in the direction of arehitec- 
tural emlKillisIiment, but a calm display of artistic feeling and 
professional artistic skill which caiiuot Ik? too highly commended : and 
it nuist now l>e evident to all architectural critics who will take the 
trouble to look at current examples, whether in the actual buildings or by 
photographs or drawings of them, that at the present moment there are 
areliitects in practice in every (quarter of the United States whose know- 
ledge and power of design, in all its detail, and in all its available 
varieties, is, man for man, little if at all Ixilow the Ixjst standards of 
the Euro|x?an professions. And it may l)e safe to add, taking the most 
skilful an'hitects of America as a l>ody, that there is displayed in much 
of their work a cert4iin artistic courage, combined with artistic good 
sonsL', wliirh seems to be characteristic of that liberated inttilligence of 
the (\\vni Republic, which in so many other matters is now recognisable 
as OIK' of the Icadhig agencies in the world. 

Thk hfPORTATroN OF EuKOi^EAX STYLES. — The Superficial extent of 
the tonitory of the United States is so vast, and the enteq^'ise of the 
]M)])ulati()n is so universally distributed — there are so many States, each 
with its own sovereign ])eople, its own inde]»endent idiosyncrasy, its own 
social conditions, its own financial resources, its own climate, its own 
mat«.*rials, and its own architects— that it is nnich more difficult than in 
any of the Euro|>ean countries to survey with confidence the progress of 
the art. There is no metropolis, like London, Paris^ lierlin, or Vieinia, 
where the l)est of everything within a large radius is condensed ami its 
control centralised. Distribution, free and equal, is the ])rimary law of 
the connnonwealth : the minor <loes not look to the major for an example, 
nor the new to the old. Many ambitions cities, not one, have therefore 
to l)e regarded with almost e(jual attention. What is more, the peculiar 
connection of different sections of the American f)eople, whether by biith, 
eduealion, or conunercial intercourse, with all the nations of Euro|.Hi 
sevendly, has this effect uiM)n architectural style, that the several 
svstems of tjiiirland, France, (Jermanv, Italv. and even Scandinavia, are 
all ready to l)e imjKjrted, and all to l)e approved. To cover so nuich 


ETound, therefore, and so much new ground, and In such novel circum- 
stances, ])y describing with any minuteness or precision the advance of so 
subtle a thing as architectural taste, is more than can be promised here, 
f »r even attempted. But nevertheless there seem to Ixj certain more or less 
striking characteristics in the general scoj)e of American design, which 
may at least l)e commented upon in what detail is possible, if only as a 
critical rather than a historical exercise. America, in short, architectur- 
ally as well as otherwise, is still a new world, whose ho]x?s and fears are 
mainly in the future, and whose historian must spring from the soil. 

It stands to reason that the svstems or stvles of desiirn which were in 
use in EurojK} should bj directly imported, and that in all their detail 
they should l)e identifiable with what was being done in Europe at the 
time. Tlrat is to siiy, American aixihitects as a school must Ixj regarded 
as part and parcel of the established school of EuroiKj — of England, 
France, Germany and Italy — following the ])ractice of those countries as 
their own. The Americans are the Europe'ans in America ; and therefore, 
making every allowance for the independent spirit of the people, their 
fi'eedoni of thought, and what may consetjuently l)e called their natural 
desiiv to be original, anything short of this adherence to the custom 
of Enro{x; would be so far impossible. Rut there is more than one way 
in which the impoiled styles might l)e dealt with, and the American 
wav of dealing with them is characteristit;. 

There are only two distinct ac^idemical schemes of Euro]X)an design 
which have been effectively accepted in America, namely, the English and 
the French. The (Ternian work of the present day is not overlooked, 
but it is reganled as virtually tiie same as the French. The Italian 
is also viewed as the same. The French scheme in question is the 
Xeo-(Jrec of the Parisian ateliei's. the latest refinement of the 
^lodern European Classic. But it does not go far in America ; the 
apia-eciation of its })eculiar finesse involves to:) much of that special 
cultivation of French taste which the Americans are not disposed to 
undertake. The great bulk of che i)racticil work follows the English 
scheme therefore : and the reason seems cliieflv to Ik?, not onlv that it is 

ft *' 

less troublesome, but that it is so exceedingly comprehensive as to satisfy 
all demands. For the actual ])ractice of the present day in England 
embraces the following elements :— the a •ademical Italian Renaissance 
in all its phases (the French included to a certain extent) ; the 
ecclesiastical Gothic of all ]X'riods. not only from England itself, but 
from France, Italy, and (lennany ; the Romanescpie as a variety of 
this ; Secular Gothic at large : with Elizal)ethan for those who still 
believe in it, and for othei-s ''Queen Anne" or Flemish and North 
(German Renaissance and Rococo generallv : l)esides several modes for 
manipulating villas, country houses, and miscellaneous suburban and rural 
buildings, to make them pleasant and picturesipie. Xo other conutiy in 
the world can compire with England in this resi>ect : and when we take also 


i!ltc^ account th.e fact that the jwpular American mind is, in spite of all its 
casnu)[>olitanLsm, an Anglo-Saxon mind, and an English mind, more than 
enough hiis l)een said to explain the reason why the practice of Arcliitecture 
in tho United States is almost universally based ui)on English practice. 

The first work of the new school in the United States was Trinity 
ChuR'h (English Episcojialian) in New York (Platie 292^), which was 
Ix^gun alK)ut 1840 and finished about 1848. It is still regarded as one 
of the finest Gothic edifices in America. Although of course it has l)een 
excelled as ixupec^ts style by many later examples, it was certainly very 
giXKl work for its day. Before long Pugin's teaching made itself felt, but 
it cannot be said to have producc*d the effect it did in England. Young 
English an;hitect8 .of Gothic taste, such as Withers and Yaux, presently 
made their uj»ix.*arance in the chief cities ; whilst native Americans, 
Potter, Richardson, "Wight, Ware, Yan Brunt, Ren wick, and many 
otliei*s eijually deserving of mention, some educated abroad but most of 
them at home, have worthily followed them, so that good mediaeval work 
has l)een for many years at command tlu'oughout the Union to any 
extent that might l)e re<iuired. 

Of other eminent men — some English, French, and German — the 
names miiy be mentioned at random of Walter (the architect of the 
additions to the Washington Capitol and the Gimrd College), Diaper, 
Mould, Hunt, Eidlitz, Lienau, McArthur, McLaughlin, Pryce, Robertson, 
Congdon, Peabody, Calx)t, Hill, Post, Chandler, and so on, all good 
and true men and worth v of any country : under whose dexterous hands 
the old-fashioned character of the former American building, prosaic 
and dull even when on the largest scale, has completely changed, so 
that graceful and juctures pie edifices, of all degrees of magnitude, of all 
classi-s, and of all styles, are to ha found everywhere. Not that any one 
can \cntui-e to speak of the more commonplace American architecture 
as always even moderately good accoixiing to advanced standards ; such 
would unfortunately \ro far from the fact, in any country ; but what is 
remarkable in America — taking, as we ought of course to do in so new 
a country, not the commonplace but the best — is the fact that the public 
taste of so vast a territory, so new to culture, so i-emote from the old 
ht'a(](juartei"s, and so imi>atient of Euro|)ean tnidition, should l)e ecpial at 
all to the appreciation of the sui)erior artistic building which for the last 
twenty yeare has Ixrcn so frecjuently accepted. 

TiMBEU-WoiiK AND Iron. — There are two ixjculiar modes of 
construction which must Ik* mentioned in res|)ect of dii^ect infiuence on 
the stvlf of American architectural desitrn ; namely, woodwork and iron- 
work. Wooden buildings of the commonplace kind, constructed of tiniljer 
framing covered with boarding, are in the nrajority in all parts of the 
country alike except the le.iding towns, and are still considei^Kl by many 
to l)e 8U|)erior in principle to the more jiret^jntious nunority called 
by the name of "stone houses." They are, it is argued, warmer in 



B.K^-K IX. 

wiiitur am] oimlfr in fiuiiiiiier, monj tii»i!y tini) ([iiickly liv.ilt, iiior.' easily 
uiiliira-il or iiitureil, nijNil)lei)f iK'iiig m-tiiitllj- nioviil hIhuii wlifii ti(.Hi.««irY, 
mill of foiii'si- iiiinv w'luioiiiicrtl. TIk'V luv «iillici*.'iitly ('.iinili!*.- aUu. uutl 
not umcli if ju all in irniitcr ilanprcr from firf. Hu all tliis liuin-vcr «a 
it iiitiy. till- ik'siR' to rciidcr iIk'hi lit'cm-nt iw has Iwii t'thihited in iiiimy 
ciist-s in till' [iniiiiirtidii iif c.'Si.i't'<liii£,'ly frond iind clianii-tfristit; diTimis by 
arcliitwts of uiiiiui'riw : so thai it may lie said with ^'ivat ti'iiili tliat ii 
national art of dnmustii' tiink'r Imilditi;: of tlii' Anjrlo-Sasou tyjx- has 
l)eiriiii to Ik; c'lViitud in Ami-rici, tlif awoniniodation nithiii K'injr of the 

he oiU'T as|H'i'l in 
rural stylr <if En-li: 

1-1 1 


^^■it.H-ii (if woiKiL'n 
lainrntal than thi^ 

this instmiri.' will !).■ it 

iirnisi'd its of ihv .\nrv\ri.'iiLn ivin' : lint in iilmosi 
is \,',hvs d>'V,loj.,.d is indiirviions to the foinitiy, 
I a mode as iU>- old HiiLdish liLnU'r-«ork. In'it 
y modciatc aKcmins at chanK-imstic' ornamun- 


tation, to make the " frame house " more siib.^tiiutial and presentable as a 
permanent institution, a thiii<r wliich it is bv no means difficult to do. 

( )n the other hand, as regards iron construction, the state of things 
is very different. The ideii that iron has a "future" as a building 
material is one that has long been fondly entertained by niiiny, and 
fretjuently acted upon. Citst iron has been usetl for framing and 
ornament, rolled iron also for framing, and cast iron, boiler-plate, and 
sheet iron in one form after another for covering. But the weak point 
is always the same, and always in evidence — the unfortunate facility of 
oxidation. With the slight<}st damp comes the rust, and its corrosion is 
as rapid and incurable as it is inevitable; at all events, no practical 
process of either prevention or cure has yet been contrived, except, of 
course, the inartistic and ineffectiwl expedient of continually applying 
fresh coathigs of ]iaint — inartistic because the authenticity of the material 
is effaced, and ineffectual Ixjcause the corrosion still goes on. It need 
not bL' denied, of coui*se, that in such works as bridges and extensive 
roof-coverings, the employment of malleable iron may be quasi-artisti- 
callv dealt with easily enough ; the mere features of the scientific 
trussing suffice to iiM the tale of the material so as to satisfy the 
judgment, and there need not be any difficulty in producing fonns.and 
proiK)rti()ns that are grateful, or in accomplishing a decorative effect that 
is ])k'asing in detail ; and indeed, the indisj)ensable imut may itself 
become, if well considered, an additional and appropriate source of 
artistic adornment. When, however, the problem is how to design an 
iron wall, this seems to \)q quite another matter. A skeleton of iron- 
work filled in with glass may no doubt Ije designed quite appropriately, 
and, if gracefully, artistically : but it is on the face of it a sort of 
temporary and unsubstantial structure — a conservatory, an exhibition- 
build inir, even a market, or the like, but sraivelv a house, and still less a 
nionnmental edifice. Adventurous Ameri(jans, with an evidently strong 
desire lo utilise an inviting material, apj)e4ir to have recognised this 
empirical ])rinci])le ; and the utmost length to which they have carried 
out anv serious intention of formulating a system of iron laiildinj; of a 
sujjerior class is the contrivance of street fronts, chiefly for stores or 
ware) louses. The ornanienial features have been chiefly if not entirely 
composed of cast iron, and here and there a tasteful architect has so far 
achievrl success as to produce harmonious proportions and decorative 
deijiils : but in most cases the whole composition, as regards the language 
of architecture, has been only a counterfeit in metal of stone forms, and 
almost of stone proportions : and the judgment of the exi>ert, therefore, 
is fre |Uently not merely unsitisfied, but scanilalised. In a word, to 
con>trnci a framework of iron, wliether cas*. or malleable, and fill it in 
with ir«»n i)lates, or thin brick panelling, stone or concrete slabs, or 
timb.'r work and lath and cement, does not commend itself as a reco«rnis- 
able form of arcliitwtural building, but rather as a makeshift ; and to 

VOL. II. ^ k^ 


tkror.ttu it Willi uiful uriiii illy ills iiiiikus tliL' c 
tioii iviiily almiiiil liiive "n future," AtiK-rk-ii 
liJit'l^- lo Ik.' ik'VL'Idiijil, luit it may siifHy lie i 

s lliu luml wiiiTC it ill must 
liil Clmt Slid) a future is us 


yet a long way oflF. Plate 292c represents the iron fayade of a business 
house in New York, by Hunt, which will probably be eonsideivd to be 
sufficiently characteristically designed as well as pleasingly i)roix)itioned 
and modelled. Not only has the eminent architect expressly avoided 
the encumbrances and emlmrrassmcnts which are necessarily incidental to 
the acceptance of the academical features and fonns of stone architectuiv, 
whether Classic or Mediaeval, but he exhibits every desirc to devise, and 
with a most judicious reticence and i-esene, if not novelty, at least 
appropriateness. We need not gnulge him the Corinthian cajntals of his 
shafts, or the Mediaeval canopy which constitutes his main cornice : and 
on the whole, if he does not appetir to solve the ])roblem once for all how 
to design an iron fa9ade in full detail, we may at any rate admit that he 
has produced a comjxwition which is decidedly unobjectionable and not 
inartistic, whilst so many other attempts of the same kind have lK*en in 
lx)th respects so exa8]X)rating, and esi)ecial]y on American ground. 

The Professional Guild and JoruNALisM. — Perhaps it may 
be taken as a significant circumstiince — at any rate by those who cherish 
the d(Krtrine that Architecture is in itself a historical record — tliat at 
the conclusion of the Civil War there Avas immetliatelv set on foot a 


professional organization of architects for the whole Union, with a well 
conducted and well illustrat^Hl weekly paper, by whose means, amongst 
others, Euro]Knin critics have ever since l)een enableil to compu-e 
Transiitlantic work with their own. The effect produced npon the 
pnujtice of the ait on American soil by this answer to the challenge of 
the Eurojieaii journals with their illustrations has l)een most salutaiy. 
There api^e^ired at once in these American plates many examples of veiy 
good work, i>ast, ])resent, and iniaginaiT ; but it cannot l)e disputed that 
during subsequent years the quality of the design, and no less of the 
draughtsmanship, has Ixjen so steadily advancing, that it is not too much 
to say the PiUglish practitioner must sometimes feel inclined to envy the 
opportunities which are ])ermitted on the other side of the ocean for 
indulging (me's fancy with so nmch fixjedom from rc^straint. 

PniLiSTiNisM. — It is often suggested that the typic^il American is 
more of a confirmed Philistine, or oi)i)onent of sentimentality, than the 
Englishman ; but this is surely a mistake. The English Philistine is an 
anti-sentimentalist ; the American is only a non-sentimentalist. The 
Englishman op|X)ses what he is weary of. He seeks in the rcs]>ectable 
utilities and ci'eaturc comforts a refuge from what he regards as the over- 
strained and nonsensical affectations of fcsthetic doctrinaires. They are 
boring him for ever with the application of mere traditional and indeed 
obsolete principles of enjoyment, invoking artificial imagination and 
conventional taste, and he wishes to esca|)e from the infliction. Amongst 
other things, he is able to affirm that the observant English citi/A'U and 
tax-])ayer has, in respect of architectural display, suffered so frequently 
and so severely as to be able to say it has l)een almost invariably, and in 

1 i^^l 


a direct ratio with the dignity of the enterprise. English Government 
building, somehow — as compired, for instance, witli the coiTesjX)uding 
business of the French — seems so seldom to come at all right in the end, 
and so often to go quite WTong from the beginning, that architects are 
obliged to console themselves with the conclusion that this must l)e ]>art 
of the price we i>ay for our constitutional administration ; whereiis, on the 
other hand, the constitutional admin istra tore — who have the advant^ige 
of the last word in all such controvei-sies — declare that, in spite of all 
their business-like control, it is the aix-hitects who, whenever the idea of 
fine building gets into their minds, lose their heads entirely. Thus arises 
the well-known Philistinism of the British legislator as regards aix^hitec- 
turees[>ecially ; and perlu4)s theimimrtial criticism of cultured foreigners 
may Ix' found to i)ronounce it excusidjle. But on the other side of the 
Atlantic the Philistine is not a jwsitive anti-sentimentalist at all, but a 
negative non-sentimentalist. He is not worn-out with enjoyment, but 
only sceptical. Show him that the enjoyment of the Arts is real, and 
he will supjjort their claims ; and not for the sake of their past, but with 
an eve to his own future. The dead man's hand overehadows all in the 
Old World ; in the New there m only the hand of the living. 

Stvlk. — Ui)on the resettlement of s(K*iety, and the return of the 
pul)lic mind to such i)roducts of ]Xiace as Architecture, the free and 
inde]xMi(k'nt character of American thought soon began to assert itself. 
It would l>e idle to suggest that anything of the natui*e of a native 
American style of design at once made its apiK'arance, for that would be 
imi)ossible : but the acceptance of i)rev!iiling systems was the acceptance 
of them all, and all at their ImjsI. Nowhere else was the variety of style 
in su]Hjriur work so great. In fact, Euroi3ean ]>ractice was epitomised ; 
and this was obviously a characteristic condition of things. There 
was a largti (piantity of inferior work, of coui*se (as there nmst Ixj every- 
where;, of which we say nothing ; and there was a veiy creditable propor- 
tion of mediocre work, entitled to almost moixj resiKJct than in Europe ; 
but tht-re was also a considerable amount of superior work, and this 
exhibited the English, French, and (Jerman modes all in jx'rfection. 
8ome have called it a mere medlev of imitation : but as soon as the 
P^nroix-an styles began to act upon each other, a process of development 
came into view. Its manifestation followed two lines in piiticidar, 
namely, a s]x.'cial attention to the grace of grouping — derived from 
the Frencli — and a courageous emulation of the bolder effects of 
^Media-val work, derived from the English ; both of these objects l)eing 
assisted to tlie utmost h\ a cond)iiiati()n (►f the best chamcteristics of 
French and English draughtsmanshij). 

Tlie modern English architect, as a rule, is not merely neglectful of 
grouping as matter of education, but in a certain way is incai)acitated 
from attenipting it by a habit of excessive economy in resj.)ect of land. 
There is. conse^juently, a certain want of foothold and of elbow-room which 


hiis Ixjc'ome almost characteristic of even superior English buildings 
eveiywhere : while on the Conthient this parsimony of space has never 
beon permitted to prevail to the same extent. In America also, although 
crowding to the utmost is no doubt well understood in some pirts of the 
great towns, yet elsewhere tliere seems to be a better appreciation of the 
grace of spiciousness. The sense of amplitude in a new country, and 
the expansiveness of national spirit in a young conmumity, seem to 
exercise a l)eneficial influence over the architect's instincts. There is also 
another element in recent English design which the Americans generally 
have declined to accept, namely, the fashion — for it is nothing more — 
of attaching a tower to the extremity of a.comiK)sition, a thing which in 
most Ciises is a])t to prove fat^il to the principle of re]X)se in groui)ing. 
Harry's Houses of Parliament, with the Victoria Tower at one extreme 
corner and the (Mock Tower at the other, vunstitute a mostextraonlinaiy 
example of this eccentricity, and probably led the fashion which has 
been so widely followed in England ever since. The ix^al effect of such 
an arrangement is little else than to diix*ct attention demonstratively 
to that consideration which is the very kust of all in artistic inii)ort- 
ance, namely, the mere size of the ground jJan. French or Italian, 
or even (ierman ai*chitects of high class, do not allow themselves to 
scatter their comiK)sition in such a way : and the Mediaeval designers 
never did so intentionally. As a rule it will l)e found that the Americans 
have preferred the Siime attitude, and have indeed s[>erially cultivated, 
even in small rural villas and other minor works, essentially English 
otluTwisf, the proixir tinesse of pyramidal elfect, which is always so 
Siitisfartorv to the eve. 

KicirAnDsox. — The pKnil iar form in whit^h the imitation of the bolder 
forms of Continental European (iothic has been adopted by certxiin 
American designers during the last twenty years is another very remark- 
able circumstance : and the mention of the name of Richardson will 
serve to indicate more ])recisely what is heiv alluded to. Kichanlson in 
America has Revived the distinguished honour of l)eing canonised, after 
the manner of Hurges and Street in England, liike both of those able 
artists, he died in middle a^^e, and at the height of his mental power and 
])ersonal influence as a leader in andntious artistic effort. Although he 
had not been much engaged ii [Km the very largest class of jmblie works, he 
left behind him a (considerable numlier of buildinirs ]M)Ssessing a certain 
novel individualitv of style, e.xceedindv robust in chanicter, irenerallv 
graceful, and in a certain way professing to Ik.' nationally American. He 
also had many jmpils and many admirers, and therefore not a few 
iniitatoi-s ; so that he is consideivd to have foiuided a school. But 
there is an interesting critical lesson to be learnt here. If architectural 
originality weiv possible anywhere at the present time it might Im.* in 
America : and Ri(!hardson mijrht very likely have l)een the man to l>e 
original ; but it is quite enough if we are able to say that he derived his 


inspiration from an unusual souive, and employed his imitative jrenius 
in an unusual manner. What he seems to have done historically was 
this — he <n'J^sjxid the s]>irit of the Romanes(|ue, and adajjted it to the state 
of feelin«r of the Northern States. After a national death strujrgle, in 
which S[wrtan and Puritan endunince had with jri^eat difficulty jrained 
the victory, the Northern i)c()ple weR' in no sjionive or smilinjr mood — 
in no way dis[)osed towards tlie eleirancits. The l)ent of Richardson's 
mind as a student in Paris had gone of itself in the stune somhre direc- 
tion, lie deli^fhted in the heavv round archwavs of the eai'lv Medianal 
modes, the broad blank walls, the excoriated masonry, the iuassive, 
muscular, irladiator-like crudities of the times when neither Chui*ch nor 
Slate had airived at the enjoyment of purple and line linen — the times 
when France and Germany were young, like America now. When he 
commenced practice he had for his comi)etitors exotic English (Jothicists, 
exotic French Neo-Greeks, and mis(;ellaneous native American '^^loderu 
Europeans" and Eclectics: and he seems to have felt that all were 
very well in their way, but none in harmony with the temjK'r of the 
pissing hour on American ground. What he desiivd to do, ap|)iirently, 
was not to challenge these with a ixiljwbly exotic Romanesipie, but 
to offer in their ctmipiiny a sort of old Puritanical Euroi)ean — no 
matter how inspired — no matter from what pirt of the universal 
inheritance of Art derived — an adventurous peculiarity of treatment 
brought out of the Old World into the Now, but by no means taken from 
the bookshelves cut and dry. This he seems to havi; done, moreover, 
wholly without that violence and aggressiveness which characterised the 
proceedings of Pugin and Street in England and their followers, and 
which cM-casioned the Battle of the St vies. There was no such conflict in 
America : and there has l)een no Richardson in England, nor any 
innovation like his. He was a Purges jmritanised ; but Purges was not 
a Richardson. 

Perha]>s no artistic contrist could ]>ossil>Iy l)e more striking than 
that which exists Ix'tween those two Anglo-Siixon fashions of the present 
moment — the Richardson style in America, and the ** Queen Anne" in 
England : the one based uix)n the (;nide musc^tilarity of the iK.Tiod which 
immediately preceded the Arid<lle Ages ; the other on the medley of 
bric-a-hrtfr into whi(;h the Middle Ages, when quite decrepit, eventually 
pissed : the one wielding in heroic joy the huge rough scabbled masonry 
of Titans : the other genteelly picking its way anu'dst pdtry red brickwork 
and I he de^'ayed garniture of l)r()kei's' shops. The manner of Richardson 
is worthy iA the name of an original Amei'ican style if the Americans 
are pleased to say so. Its jn-imary elements are these : rough rustic 
stonework for the wall-facing wherever eligible ; exceedingly bold and 
massive Romanesiiue detail, Italian, French, or Sjmnish at ])leasure ; the 
wide, heavy, l()w-l)rowed, semicircular-arched doorway, as a 8i)eciallj 
favourite feature, with its deep voussoirs strongly emphasiseil and its 


dnrk shmloHV porch within — the focua of the comiiositioTi and the 
fouiiiliition of its niiittve ; then the nrcadc to corn»|>()ii(l ; the campanile 
rising' like a cliff hi uiil)roken breadth aii'l stern re]K«e. Iwt sunnountcd, 
if you will, hy wlmt duffiuiey may suit the purpos*; of the moment ; the 
ranjie of windon-s as a enidu colonnade, colnmiiar arcade, or the like, in 
loiiu uiihrokcii line ; the crux-tower huftely larne niid low (see Plate 
i'Jiiil) : the Hcniicirculur ftjisc, or staircase, or turret, or what not, boldly 
prominent in the fngade ; and, if it can l<e ticconipllshed, the use of 

Triolly Chnrcb. 

Viiriiius coloiui) in the stonework. To all this Kichanlson added 
<Hrai^ioiinlly tlif uiifrronjiiihle corner tower : and Bome of his work has no 
iwist- : iiut sui'li tri'iitniunt is in neither ruse ehanicteristic of his style. 
In his inieridfs his iiniliition was precisuly the sanit, — to put the work 
into .■uroiifT naked heiilth and honesty rather than into any dainty and 
iittiiniaiLil attiiv. It may Ik; addwl that he had a constiniilomil dishke 
for tile sitandaiil French mode, of which he had seen so nmcli in Paris ; 
thai he did not lind much, to admire in tl)e current En^'hsh work ; and 
that his iieisoiial taste was not ecclesiastical. lie was all American and 


non-acadtunieal ; mid in thut light pnrticnliirly we ought to nad his 
work niirt be pT«]xirwl to rtcotrniae its artiHtic iiifluericc. 

Trinity Church, liostmi. is ivpmM hy many to Im; R id i a I'd son 'a 

iilini: |inMhic-ii..Ti (Xn. i}'.i2-h. Tlml ii is !i work ..i ivfiuwl 
ti;lkrtn;iiity will w:«n-,'!y U: iirtirnn'il ; hut iliu uniwiiliiiity ,.f it, 
: cimnisftims (lefiiinir of i'\t:M fiolliic ilrlii-acii-s, its iflianri.' ujxm 


the spectator's sense of mere vigorous manhood, are everywhere 

The Winn Memorial Library (No. 292«) is a much more character- 
istic work of Richardson's, and will probably be pronounced by most 
readers to be a desi^pi of extraordinary power, originality, and elegance 
combined. The use of very rough-dressed stone facing is here 
conspicuous, the scale of the building being small. Whether the 
crocketed roofs are to be admired, even as an additional element of rude 
muscularity, may be questioned. 

The cavernous entrance-porch which is identified with Richardson's 
fltyle is not illustrated in either of these examples, but the idea has 
laid hold ujwn the American mind very forcibly. It is not uncommon 
for. architects of the later Ricliardsonian school, notably in domestic 
buildings of an importance quite insufficient for such demonstrativeness, 
to recess the doorway several feet, and give access to it by a single 
archway in the flush front wall, in height scai-cely niised al)ove the 
semicircle, and serving no i>urj)ose but to render the door as dark and 
dismal as the gateway of a prison might be, so that one is inclined to 
look for the portcullis. If the reader will imagine the porch of the 
Winn Library (Xo. 202e) to be divested of its side lights altogether, 
and the front archway made a semicircle, with the springing about a 
yard above the ground line, this would make it a fashionable American 
porch, especially if we add the deep Spanish arch-stones. The muscu- 
larity of the idea is undeniable, but the aflPectation is palpable. 

EcTLESiASTiCAL Desi(;n. — lu pHx^ecding to speak more in detail of 
the actual craftsmanshij) of architecture in the United States during the 
last tive-and-twenty years, it is natural, as it is customary, to draw a 
strong line of deniarc*ation iKitween ecclesiastical and secular work. But 
this distinction does not exist in the form to wliich we are accustomed 
in EnrojK?. There is no National Church, not even a dominant sect, not 
c^•c•n a militant sect, not even a popular sect, not even a fashionable sect, 
but nil divisions agree to dwell together in a harmony of mutual 
non-intciference which hi England it is inii)ossible to conceive. The 
consequence is that one ecclesiastical edifice differs from another only 
according to the Avealth of the congre'gations, no distinction of any 
kind between consecrated chiuvh and unconsecrated chapel l)eing ever 
heard of in public opinion ; and the result in reajxict of an;hitectural 
design is exactly what might he expei'tcd. As an almost invariable rule 
the churches are of any comfortable plan of interior that may suit the 
convenience of the audience and the ])reacher — one can sciircely say the 
ritual or ceremonial, far less the obligations of tnidition or ancient 
history. The style in the Ijest exami)]es is Gothic, and seems likely so 
to contimie in concert with the present indiscriminate English custom. 
^I(^st of the designs are of jMJor merit ; but veiy many are on a 
creditable averatre, and some arc excHjedingly good. The treatment is 


KumsD CalboLk UUiednl, Sen Y«k. 


Qinrdi, New Vork. 

soiiiutiiiifs, however, U8 free iib tlie st'cts niv v[m\ ; and tin; lUHHiiineiitly 
iiiicoiiveutiuiiiil work is often umoiip;st the Ix.-8t. Sliovy utiiliiiioti is not 
altogethur uiK'mtiiiioii (Sw Xo. 2'J-J/) ; and luxurious funiitua' gives to 


til. ii,i>-.iniv :, .li.niiirn: ii|.|-''i~-""'' "' 'l""i"'sri.iiy uliirli tt.mlil li.imfy 

till.- m.hhI |.-..|,1.- ii..l>. «l:n |,n.r.T.iis.iOiif.>n ;|[ .lillivli ;i> u fuil 1.) tlif 

t'lijuviii- ii[^ •'( Iiomi'. Till' K]<isii>]Kiliiiiis. "f i\n: Ell-_']i^ll N'iii imiiil Cliiiivli 



and others, are not to any great extent bonnd by the En^rligh form of 
plan ; but they poBsess many examples of good atstdemical Gothic. The 
Romun Catholics have built eigually academiadly, and sometimes uuder 
English architects such as the Pngins. But otherwise the rale is lil>erty 
of taste ; and perhaps the most interesting circumstance connected with 
this attitude is a fr(!i|uenl dishke for the pointed arch. Bold round-arch 
Gothic — not BomaneBijue — seems to !« almost a standiiifr problem for 
development (Xoe. 21t2A and ^1)2/), the rose ivindoiv l»eing a favourite 
feature. No doubt tliis condition of practice in due to a definite 
national feclin^; -, and we may perhaps identify it with the instinct of 

jinictical and iKmitive modern isiition wliieli in natuivlly csa'ntial to tlie 
country. Siinie of the nirji church work, a;piin, is very jrood (Imhicised 
timlnT-ivork ; a hifthly creditable ciirumstiince critii'iilly «hen- wiwdeii 
Imildiiig: has to l>e so nuicb adopted. Ittiriii^ the lust few yeiirs the 
desifjn and execution of details have also iKtn inLi>n)viii<: vitv irrcatly. 
Aa would l)e sujiixisod, some of the churches are desiirned in various 
phases of t'lasiiic style, imt ^linendly without novelty. Tlie Jewisti 
synafrojrues are somewhat alfectedly Ityzantiiie. Sjiciikinir at lar^, 
AinertcHii oriirinality often cames with it iml]iab!e criiileness : but there 
is a ceitiiin prominent solidity of motive nliicb is alwiya a redeemiuE 
uharacteriscic. A conijiariBon of Upjohn"a Trinity Chnrcli in Xew York 


(Plate 202r/, 1840-45) and Ricliardsou's Trinity Church in Bo6tX)n 
(No. 292//, 1 872-7 ()) as two masterpieces of American ecclesiastical 
building, makes a suggestive study. 

Secular Gothic. — The Secular Gothic in America is seldom 
praiseworthy ; it followed upon English precedents, and was always a 
few years l)ehind them : generally it was no worse, frequently quite as 
good, and never any Ixitter. All tliis is as we should expect. When, 
however, the Mediajvalist mode has l)een employed in the railroad 
stations, it seems to have blossomed out into a good deal of vulgarity. 
This also we might jxjrhaps exi)ect ; at any rate an American, if not an 
Englishman, will at once admit that theixi is no very clear connection 
between the rackety business of the modern u*on horse and the solemn 
conditions of the ancient cloister. By the way, it is observable that in 
Secular, as in Ecclesiastical Gothic, the round arch is very decidedly 
preferred to the ^vointed. It need scarcely l)e added that American 
Secular (lothic is often exceedingly free and easy, and that, even when 
so far Hiu^cessful, it is necessarily cnide ; but here again it has to be 
acknowledged that there is a certain absence of thinness, wiriness, and 
** legginess," which enables it to conqwi-e favourably with some of our 
most poimlar work of the same class in England. 

Thk Ordinary Classic. — The most common public buildings 
during the last cjuarter of a century have been State Capitols or 
Parliament -liouses, court-houses and post-offices (generally combined), 
custom-housi.'s, hospitils, colleges, asylums, libraries, art-galleries, and 
other such establishments, and great hotels. These have Inien generally 
designed after the Modern p]uroi>ean Classic ; and the banks, insurance- 
offices, and other editices of importance for commercial business, have 
been usuallv of a similar stvle. But here airain freedom fnmi academical 
i-estraint has haan the order of the dav ; for the sanctibv of colourless 
commonplace authenticity, which in England is a fixed princii)le, is no 
more ix^garded in America than the sanctity of any other inconvenience. 
On the whole, however, the result has l)een not unsatLsfiujtory ; and 
indeed in a majority of instances the buildings Wonging to the 
(rovernmcnt will Iw found to be eminently well designed, and certainly 
no woi*se, possibly Ixater, tluin corresponding edifices in England. This 
is no ;l()ul)t due to the infiuence of the education of so many American 
pupils in Paris. At the same time it cannot be affirmed that modern 
French work is popular in America : the national taste seems to be 
English. The feminine finesse of the Fi-ench detail, charming as it is, 
may bu said always to pall upon the nuler taste of the Anglo-Saxon, as 
if wanting in virile vigour : and this comes to be all the more 
observable in what is practically an Anglo-Siixon land with the 
backwoods still extant.' To put the case otherwise, it is as if the busy 
American finds it much too troublesome to thread his way tlirough 
Parisian elegancies, and prefers the easier tiisk of grasping in a moment 


the more muscular if less refined graces, more stimulating if less 
permanently satisfying, of the English taste. But even if it bo so, there 
can he little doubt of this, for instance — ^that the detached buildings, in 
American minor towns, show a frequent improvement upon the English ; 
and this most notably, perhaps, in the article of grouping, whether of 
masses or of features, in which the French so much excel. Moreover, 
the American seems to permit himself to be habitually a man of large 
ideas ; so that the architect is not so much afraid as in England lest his 
pencil sliould run away with him, or his client trip him up for 
extravagance. It is not that judicious economy can be disregarded 
anywhere, but there is a sort of cheeseparing admitted too generally into 
English architecture which is no part of judicious economy ; it is a 
gratnitoiLs and wholly vicious instinct of parsimony, and there is an 
appt*arance in American work of this vice being comparatively alisent as 
a go\eniiiitr principle in what ought to be superior work. Every one 
knows how the French complete their buildings fully, carvings and 
sculj>tuivs included ; while the English seem to take a strange delight in 
demonstratively leaving them unfinished and bankrupt, with empty 
niches, unoccupied ]3edestals, tnmcated towers, unfurnished panels, and 
actually uncut bosses and corl)els. The Americans at least show a 
rational desire to round off their work creditably, and avoid beforehand 
what profusion they cannot afford, rather tlian put themselves in the 
metin ]K)sition of having brought their banking account to an 
unexj)ec!ted end. 

In the more common 8ti*eet building of the cities, amidst a great 
deal of inferior design, whether mistaken, or meagre, or no design at all, 
there is evidenced, in comi>arativcly more instances perhaps than in 
Eii*rlan(l, a disjK)sition to make a considerable display in the architecture 
of warehouses, stores, mills, manufactories, and private people's 
'* l>uil(lin*rs," including '* Apartment houses," or gi-eat blocks divided 
into suites of rooms for residences. In all such edifices, no doubt, the 
freedom of the national diameter is apt to exhibit itself in a little 
advertising, and sometimes a good deal ; but it may be argued that, so 
long as this is kept within proper lK)unds, it Ls obviously the lifeblood of 
])rivate an^hitecture. At any rate, the work that is produced in tliis 
way LS often not only courageous, but exceedingly meritorious (see 
Plate '2^'2k) : and that is the real question to be considei-ed. A certain 
repose is still found to prevail in most cases of im]K)rtance, and a' 
largeness of ideas, we might almost say a certain dignified gravity. 
Ilustic masonry of the Richardsonian stvle is occasional! v used. Iron 
far;ades, on the other hand, although sometimes sufficiently well devised 
by accomplished architects, are quite as frequently the fantastic and 
anomalous attempts of more original because less thoughtful persons. 
Generally sjxjaking, the individuality of manner in street architecture, 
which in Eiicrland is made a matter of congratulation, while in France 


it is BO very much eubdued for the sake of harmony in the ^ueml 
effect, is ill American towiiB quite uii restrained. How far it is critically 
correct to constitute a town an architectunil museum, in ivliich the 
gK&U^t amount of variety of style in the esaraplea shall be lield to 


constitute the strongest claim to approbation, is a question that seems to 
be irorthv of discuBsioti in England ; but in American cities the con- 
fusion is much greater than in England, although the wont of it will 
no doubt gradually disap^tear as the average of artistic skill improves. 
Tlic suburban and rural Domestic Architecture of America has 
advanced more remarkably than any other branch of the art. Villas of 
moderate size have become very numerous, and they often exhibit both 
au ingenious variety and an artistic courage in a very remarkable 
degree. Plate 292/ sho\vs the Ixildness with which a small villa can be 
treated even in far distant California. More recently the larger fortunes 

tKI. UoiiM It Lib AngvlH, C4llfoniU. 

of mercHutile sixtculators have induced the building of what are already 
ciillwl fountiy seats, some of which have become not only of large 
dimensions, but of higiily decorative character Iwth without aud within. 
The English motives of design have been almost univei-sally accepted, 
with lilienil and often higlily adi-antageous modifications. The 
effect, of masterly draughtsiUHiiship has also lK,vn very remarkable 
indeed, producing, not only well comjwsod and esiKicially well groU|jed 
designs, but graceful, piqnaiit, and original developments in all 
dinrtionn. Xo doubt there is a good deal that is rather hyper- 
pi ctuifw pie, esjicciHlly sometimes in the article of roofs ; but the timber 
work is of a very adimuced order, lx)ld, novel, and even richly ornamental, 
vor^ II. 2 B 


Lately the " Queen Anne " fashion has been to some extent favoured, 
but its quaintness cannot be said to suit the sobriety of the national 
mind ; it is weak, and if it claims to be jesting, it is not in the 
American way. 

Interior work and furniture have been progressing very much after 
the English manner, and the minor arts have been acciuiring moral 
courage, grace, ^nd popularity. 

Competition contests are frecjuent, and they appear to he applied to 
smaller business than in England. Some of the designs are exceedingly 
good examples of composition ; and, inasmuch as artistic ambition is so 
much less restrained than with us, it will Ik3 all the more readily 
believed that the designs which arc unsuccessful l)ecau8e of lx?ing too 
ambitious are often of very high merit indeed. 

It may be a fit conclusion to these ol)servations on the recent 
arcliitfecture of the New World to take a glance at two or. three (juestions 
which may hiduce the reader, whether across the ocean or at home, to 
reflect upon the future prospects of the art. 

By Whom is Architecture Appreciated ? — It is well known 
how little the architectural design of buildings is " underetanded of the 
people." In respect of those intriciite considerations of expi^ession, form, 
proj)ortion, and decorative treatment, which constitute the work of the 
architect, who iKJsides himself recognises them ? 01)st»rve what 
amazing blunders are committed, i\& mere matter of course, by the 
inexpert, even when the enthusitasm of the connoisseur is at its very 
best. The ^Xincil of an accomplislieil piinter, except in such rare 
instances as a Canaletti or a Rol)ei*ts, wandere aimleaslv over the 
delineation of simple detiiils whicli arc Ixjforc his veiy eyes at the 
moment. Even the measuring surveyor and the builder are helpless, 
when only called upon to select a moulding. Leanied dilettanti are 
equally at fault, even when i)08ing as critics. Of journalists it is l)est 
to say nothing. But it is dangerous even to trust the ]>rofessional 
designer of furniturc and onmments whenever a jwint of aix-liitectnrc is 
in question seriously. And how entirely ignorant of its finesse arc those 
who have all Art at their personal connnand — princes, ptitricians, leaders 
of the world of wealth and leisurc*, grace and luxury ! In short, when 
we gnisp the fact how completely the professional coninumity of 
architects is constituted, by even a very modemte training, a close 
corporation, and its work a " mystery," so that an intelligent pupil of 
eighteen is the master, not only of the doctor or the lawyer, but of an 
archbishop or a Minister of SUite, doi« not this question arise, as 
possibly an urgent one in these plain-si)eaking days — By whom is it that 
architecture is actually appreciated ? In other words, what is the i-eal 
social position of this matter of designing ? Who arc they that read its 
language ? What of those who cannot ? What is public opinion 
e/jfcitled to say alwut it, and what not entitled to say ? 


It is at the same time a curious fact that the successfal artist is very 
rarely a saccessful critic. Just as the combination of the scientilic 
temperament and the poetic temperament — as in the caee of Goethe — is 
so seldom met A^ith, even in a moderate degree, so also it seems to be a 
natural law of intellect that the sometimes small amount of imagination 
which qualifies a man to be a practical architect is quite enough to 
involve the absence of that perhaps not very great amount of the 
analytical faculty which is required by the critic. Thus it is that the 
two best known systems of criticism have in fact ac<|uired their value — 
no proper value in either case. The one of these is judgment by 
precedent, the mode of the hidustrious copyist. The other is judgment 
by instinct, the way of the person of taste. The copyist satisfies him- 
self by referring to his books ; the person of taste likes or dislikes, and 
knows not why. 

If, then, the authority of precedent is falling into disuse, is it the 
authority rtf mere liking and disliking that is to govern Architecture ? 
Let us hope not, but still let us look at the matter anxiously. It is the 
providers of the money who nuist approve or disapprove the design, and 
the way in which they come to tlieir conclusion is all important. It is 
the jmblic Siitisfaction or dissatisfaction which must be the ultimate test 
of architectural success, and yet the pul)lic know absolutely nothijig 
about the matter ! 

In Paris there are certahi large sections of the public who, although 
they may not be able to criticise architectural detail architecturally, 
have been so accustomed from time immemorial to Uike an intei-est in. 
academical art of everv kind, and to eniraire freelv in the discussion of 
artistic merit and demerit in every form, that their opinions uptm 
an^hitec^tural desiirn, although logically (juite empirical, are practically 
])erfectlv sound. Their likes and dislikes are not scientificallv arrived 
at, but they jire the results of a si)ecies of jxiraonal exiierience which 
in some thinjjfs is mom reliable than even scientific arirunient. A 
French aixjhitei^t, therefore, who is jierfectly sure that his work is good, 
may be ecjually sua* that the public will pronounce it good. 

But it is bv no means so in England or America ; even the most 
ciilturetl connoisseurs cannot l)e deiKiiided uiM)n, and the ai*chitect who 
is properly conscious of merit nmst look for its recognition to his 
professional brethren, with a very small commonwealth of allies who, if 
they cannot lead, can intelligently follow. It is for this iviison, perhaps, 
that our Anglo-Saxon architecture is often so caivlessly designed, even 
the l)est of it. 

To educate a community up to the standard of appreciating such a 
recondite matter as architectural design is a thing that cannot l»e done 
in a hurry ; but the time may come when persons of culture in England 
and America shall be at least able to judge of it as the French do. In 
the meantime what is the architect to do ? Perhajjs the answer is that 

2 B 2 


he is to do his best and so leave it. Occasionally we have seen a case in 
which a practitioner, anxious for either profit or fame, has saciificed his 
own better tastes to gain the approbation of the anintelligent ; but, in 
En^rland at least, this is not the way a compromise of the artistic 
tjoiiscience is generally made by architects ; the more prevalent sin of 
that kind goes no farther than a too great readiness to fall in with 
the latest fashion. Xo doubt every man of business must be allowed to 
do the best he can for himself ; but if he can permit himself at the same 
time to do the best he can for the honour of his craft, it is not likely 
that he will lose by it in the end. One more word that may be added is, 
that no architect is worthy of the name of artist who is not personally 
jsolicitous about every detail of his work. 

^Vrchitectural Scepticism. — We are accustomed to say that these 
are tlie days of free inquiry, and we all profess to approve of liberty 
of opinion if expressed without oifence. In such a subject as Archi- 
tecturc the student may safely l)e encouraged, therefore, to think for 
liimself a gooil deal. We certainly do not find too many instances in 
which this leads the practical man into grave error ; for the actual 
work of designing a building is far too difficult a task for the 
designer, and too serious a matter for the paymaster, to admit of self- 
sufficient incomi)etence readily obtaining an opportunity for attitudi- 
nising. On the contrary, the complaint is made every day, in spite of 
all our pains, that there is too much sameness in English buildings 
of every class, for a generation which exhiliits so great an aptitude 
for tlie enjoyment of variety in other matters of taste. There is 
consecjuently no substantial danger at all in architectural free-thinking 
being cultivated by the young — ^and, for that matter, by their seniors. 
Inasnnich as at the present moment there arc not even any agreed canons 
of criticism upon which English or American youth may exercise its 
gifts of unlxilief, individuality, if not positive originality, is exception- 
ally favoured. How then do we stand as regards practical scepticism ? 
The answer may probably l)e that we do not seem to do ourselves credit 
in this i*esi)ect. Tiiie, the typical Englishman or American is not a 
sceptic by natures as the Frenchman is, and as the German is. His 
fomuilas of public opinion and private duty are cautious, common- 
sensible, and conservative ; he prefers something like certainty to any- 
thing like uncertaintv. But ol)serve in Architt<;turc how the mercurial 
Frenchman adheres to nile, and denies himself the characteristic satis- 
faction of R'niodelling constituted authority. Ol)serve also how the 
exj)lorati()n8 of the architec^tural mind in Germany stop far short of 
introducing first principles in practice. IMay we say that the critical 
instinct of the Fre^ich designer is so well satisfied, and so justly, with 
his own modes, that there is no room for speculative misgivings ? Or 
that the philosophical faculty of the Gennan is not so much occupied 
with al»stract ])riiiciples as to compromise the secondary prcblems of actual 


work ? Or perhaps that the intellectual speculations of the one and 
the intuitive perceptions of the other arrive at the same simple result — 
that the painstaking but liberally free development of the standard and 
therefore true Modem European is the legitimate work of all modem 
architects alike who would be practical men ? 

What turn, then, ought architectural scepticism to take in America ? 
Probably the best answer to such a question for the present is the 
recommendation of a more careful inquiry on the part of practical 
designers into the " common sense " of every feature they accept, and 
every detail they devise. It is not enough, for instance, ^witriotically to 
follow in the wake of even such a powerful artist as Richardson, and to 
think that his measure of originality is enough for this generation. Xor 
is it enough to seize upon any other attractive mannerism because of its 
novelty and apparent appropriateness to a new country. Far less is it 
allowable to accept a new fonnula of design merely because of its defiance 
of old formulas. The legitimate inheritance of all the ages must not be 
ignored or despised. To " stand in the ancient ways " — the motto of 
Street — is now becoming an obsolete superstition ; but to forget those 
ancient ways is not to any one's profit. This is an age of infinite 
knowledge-collecting ; and it is not easy to have too much of knowledge. 
But let us test and try it all, and hold fast to that which is good : this 
is the true scepticism of both Science and Art. 

TiiK FuTUUE OF American Architecture. — One of the most 
exi)erienced, learned, and thoughtful of English stutesmen, ^Ir. Gladstone, 
hiis pronounced the opinion that EurojK^ may already see in North 
America an immediate successor in the march of civilisation. Xow 
civilisiition goes by rule, like everything else in nature, and heredity has 
its full influence in governing both substance and formula. Accordingly, 
as the great community which calls itself the United States of Xoith 
America is still essentially the foremost of English colonies, it is only 
a natuiiil consetjuence that its present civilisation is of the English ty]X3, 
as we know it to Ix;. It follows in like manner that the future of the 
United States will be of the same order, subject only to the law of the 
gradual decay of extraneous influence. Architectui-e, therefoi-e, as 
"history in stone,'* will within certain Uniits Ije found to follow in 
America for ages to come the English form of the Euroix^an manner. 
But what are the limiting agencies ? Perhaps they are chiefly these : — 
the extensive use of timl)er-work, the unsophisticated character of the 
landsc^[)e and general environment, the national ingenuity, self-suffi- 
ciency, enterj)rise, and desire for invention, the haste of business, and 
the interference of other nationalities with the ancestral influence of the 
lyarent state. To appreciate these considerations we cannot do Ixitter 
than look at the work of Richardson. He was bred in New England, 
and professionally educated in Paris ; he travelled for further inspiration 
in old England, and he began work at home at the conclusion of the 


crneial episode of the great Civil War. He sought to become a typical 
American ; . and the view which he took of the situation is very clearly 
shown in his work. He struck out a personal style of massive boldness, 
courageous ingenuity and enterprise, perfect self-confidence, and free 
adaptation of all he knew. He rejected relentlessly what the world of 
an^hitects relied upon so implicitly, both the Classic of the French and 
the Gothic of the English. To make a long story short, the outcome of 
it was an ideal of virile muscularity of design which was novel alike to 
the New World and the Old, not '* rough and ready," far less '* rough 
and tumble," but rough and nide of purpose, to accord with a rising 
not a falling civilisation, a nationality not old and eifete, weary and 
stumbling, but young and in a hurry, unceremoniously resolute, and 
looking forward with an earnest eye — always fonvard, never backward — 
puritanically despising meretriciousness, inflexibly demanding vigour. 
Whether he always kept liis fancy under due control, never mind ; it 
was not likely he would ; and it was ver}' likely indeed that his followers 
would be less scmpulous than himself. But does Richardson's manner 
supply what America wants ? There are many who will think it is at 
least a good beginning. His scabbled and sometimes coarsely nistic 
facing, for instance, his roof crocketing, his sepulchral entrance porch, 
and a few other somewhat assertive experiments, will no doubt be 
gradually modified ; but the simple, manly graciousness of his more 
imj)ortant, if less striking, features, may not improbably retain its 
generous and genial influence for a long time to come. Even in such 
examples as the Ames BiiikUng (^No. 292A'") and the house at Los 
Angeles (Xo. 2*,)2/) — selec^ted (juite at random — it cannot l)e denied that 
there is to Ik? discerned the backlwne of a novel national style altogether 
sujKTior in viUility to the inveitebrate commonplace of which in 
England, and indeed elsewhen*, we see so much. — El).] 

Book X. THEATRES. 875 



No mention has l>een made in the previous pages of this work of 
the Theatres of modern times, thoujjfh their importance is such that 
no histoiy of Architecture could be considered complete without some 
referenc^j to them. If not so important as the Mediaeval Cathedrals, 
thev at least come next to them in sc^le in modem times. No 
importiint capital city in Europe is without its Great Opera House ; 
and, in addition to this, all jx)88es8 several Dramatic Theatres, and 
even every provincial town has its place for theatrical representations 
as certainly as its smaller pRnlecessor would have had its ]:)ariBh church. 
Many of t*^ese editires cost as much to erect as their ecclesiastical pro- 
totypes in the Middle A<,a*s, and of those on which less was expended 
oriirinallv it mav safely Ijc Jisseiled that their furniture, decoration 
and maintenance cost more than the older buildinirs, many of whose 
pnriM)ses these less creditiible institutions now fulfil. 

Instead of mentioning the Theatres of each nation sejxirately, it 
will be found more convenient to treat them as one group, as they 
have no nationality — the designs of those of Naples or St. Petersburgh 
Ix'ing jmictically identical, while those of London or Paris would suit 
e(|nally well for any cai>ital in Europe ; and it would 1h^ tedious to 
internipt the narrative of IocmU pecniiarities in order to rei)eat over 
and over again what may be Siiid once for all. 

There is another circumstance which renders it expedient to treat 
of the Theatres apart from other buildings, which is, that they alone 
have escaped — in their internal arrangement, at least — from the intlu- 
enc(^ of the copying school. It is true that, when permanent Theatres 
first came to be ercKJted in modem Europe, Palladio did build one at 
Venice, and Serlio another at Vic*enza, according to the precepts of 
Vitiiivius ; and, in the last days of his career, the former architect 
designed the CHjlebrated Theatro Olympico at Vicenza, which still 
stands a monument of his classical taste, and boasts of being the oldest 
permanent theatre in Europe, at least of those built since the time of 



the Romans. It was, however, also the hist of its race ; for, though 
Classicality or Medisevalism may do very well for churches, managers 
of theatres are in earnest, and their audiences insist on both seeing 
and hearing what is going on, and will not l)e content with being 
told that it is correct to sit behind a pillar where nothing can l)e 
seen, or under a roof where every sound is lost. The consequence was 
that arcliitects were forced to try if they could not invent something 
more suitable for modern purposes than the great conch of an ancient 
theatre, and better and more convenient than the locale in which 
Mediaeval mysteries wei*e wont to be perfonned. The result has 
l)een that modern Theatres, so far, at least, as concerns their internal 
aiTangements, are the only important buildings in modem times 
designed wholly without reference to prei-edent, and regarding which 
an architect really must think what is l)est to l)e done and how he can 
Inist do it. It hence arises that in speaking of them we must ivvert 
to our old principles of criticism, and explain their jxruliarities as if 
they were the works of ixiasoning men and not the products of copying 

From these circumstances our Tlieatres would be bv far the most 
Siitisfactory of our ArcliiLcctural productions if it weiv not that, in 
almost all cases, economy is one of the tii'st exi^^'ucies to l)e attended 
to. AVitli very few exceptions Tlieatres aiv private connneivial s] pecu- 
lations i^ot up for tlie })ur|)ose of making money ; and even when 
governments assist or interfere, economy of siMtce, if not of money, 
has always to l>e attended to, one conseipience of which is tliat no 
theatre in EuroiKJ is constructed internally of such dunible materials 
as are requisite to Architectural effect. The lK)xe8 and fittings aixj 
generally of wood, often capable of l)eing removcHl, and always with a 
temporary look al)out them, very destructive of grandeur. 

XotwithsUmding these defects, great halls, sometimes measuring 
more than 100 ft. by 7<> or Hi), and so or IHi ft. in height, without 
any centml sup|)ort, decorated, with more or less elaboration, from 
floor to roof, must almost of necessity l)e objects of considenible 
mao-niticence ; and when to this we add that thev are all honestly 
designed for the puriK)ses to which they are applied, we may turn to 
them with a stitisfaction we can sciircely feel in contenq>lating the 
greater numlicr of the buildings we have just lieen descrihing. 

The eiirliest theiitres of Italy or '^\mui were the Cortiles of the 
former and the Corrales of the latter countn', — court vards, sur- 
rounded by balconies or arcades from which the sj)ectators cM)uld see 
or hear what pissed on a temi)ordry stage erected against one side of 
them, on which the simply-constructed ejirly dramas were j^erformefl, 
always in broad daylight. 

In France, where the climate did not so rejwlily lend itself to out- 

Book X. THEATRES. 377 

door represcutationB, the earliest theatres seem to have been the 
tennis or racket-coarts, which were admirably adapted to the pur- 
pose. A stage erected at one end, and two or three galleries at 
the other, with a spacious " parterre " between, enabled a considerable 
audience to see and hear with great facility ; and, except that the 
receipts would be limited by the loss of the accommodation of the side 
lK)xes, this form of theatre has even now much to ixjcommend it. 

In England the cockpit or bear-garden seems to have been the 
eirliest model, and was by no means an incapable one if properly 
worked out, combined as it might have been, with the galleries 
surrounding the courtyards of our hostelries, which was the other 
model at our disposal. 

Except the classical theatres mentioned above as erected by Palladio 
and Serlio, there does not appear to have been any really permanent 
building in Europe for the purpose of theatrical representations until 
after the expiration of the 16th century. During its course, however, 
plays had become so important an element in the literature of almost 
every country in Europe, and witnessing their representation so 
fashionable an amusement, that it was impossible it should long 
ix'nmin thus. We consefjuently find the theatre of the Hdtel de 
Bourgoyne rising into great importance in Paris in 1621, and being 
nbnilt in KUf) with tiers of boxes, but arranged apparently on a 
SjUjire j>lan. In KI^D Richelieu built the original theatre of the 
Palais Royal, which was long considered the type and model to be 
followed in the design of such structures. 

In Venice a theatre was erec^ted in 16.39, with two tiers of boxes 
arranged cinrularly round a pit sloping backwards as at present, thus 
really inventing the pR^sent fonn of theatre ; and in 1675 Fontana 
first introduced the horseshoe fonn in a theatre called the Tordinoni 
which he erected in Rome. 

In this country the first, pennanent theatre with Iwxes seems to 
have l)een the Duke's Thwitre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, erected in 1662 : 
it certainly was the first in which scener}' was introduced and the other 
usual appliances of scHinic decoration. 

Fontana's invention may be said to have completed the modem 
theatre in all its essential jjarts, but it took another century before all 
the problems connected with the representation of a modem drama 
were complete. In 1754 Sufflot erected the theatre at Lyons, which 
was long regarded by French architects as the most perfect model 
of an auditory which they possessed ; and in 1777 Victor Louis built 
the great tueatre at Bordeaux, which was then, and is now extemally, 
the very finest edifice of its class to be found in France, — it may 
almost be said, in Europe. Alwut the same time (1774) Piermarini 
built the Scala at Milan, which is still perhaps the best lyric theatre 
in existence ; though we had nothing to compare ^^th these edifices 


until Novosielflki rebuilt the Opera House in the Haymarket, in 1790, 
very much as it was before it was burnt down in 1867, and Smirke and 
Wyatt rebuilt Covent Garden and Drury Lane Theatres in 1808 and 
1812 respectively. 

The first really important theatre in Grermany was the Opera 
House at Berlin, built by order of IiYederick the Great in 1741. In 
Russia the theatre is an importation of very recent date ; but being 
patronised by the Imperial Family and fostered with subventions 
from the state, the lyric theatres of St. Petersburgh and Moscow equal 
in extent and splendour those of any other of the capitals of Europe. 

Construction of Modern Theatres. 

The problems involved in the construction of a modem tlieatre are 
infinitely more complex and difiicult than those presented to the 
designers of the theatres of the ancients. The dramas of the Greeks 
and Bomans, or at least those which were represented in their great 
theatres, were of the simplest possible kind. The action took place 
on a pulpitum or raised platform in front of a fixed architectural 
screen. The dialogue was simple, rhythmical, and probably intoned, 
and the chorus sufficiently numerous to make their united voices heard 
anywhere. The class of spectacle in modern times most like these 
great dramas is probably the Oratorio ; and the experience gained by 
representations of that kind at the Crystal Palace has proved how easily 
a theatre could be constnicted with at least a 300 feet radius (the 
greatest ever used by the Greeks), where 20,000 persons could be 
seated at their ease and still hear even the low notes of bass voices 
with very enjoyable distinctness ;^ consul ueiitly, were our objects the 
same as those of the Greeks, the solution would be easy. 

The introduction, however, of jwinted movable scenes, which 
seem first to have been invented by Kiildassare Penizzi, and used by 
him, in 1508, in a piece called * La Calandra,' when it was played l)efore 
Leo X., and the further development of this invention, which was 
BO thoroughly in accordance with the spirit of the age, led to the 
necessity of a recessed stage with a framintr like that of a piotui'e. 
Once arrived at this point, all the conch-like arrangements of the 
Classical period became inappropriate, for it was evident that only 
on the tennis-court plan could all see equally well into the room 
in which the action was taking place. As, however, a 8|X)ken 
dialogue can hardly be well heard at a greater distance than 75 or 
80 ft., nor the expression of a countenance well appreciated lieyond 

* The Crystal Palace was not designed ' but. notwithstanding tliis, ton or twelve 
with any reference to such represcnla- thousand persons can hear even the solo 
tions, and its flat floor is Bin;;ularly un- ' parts very tolerably, and fifteen or twenty 
ftiyourable for tlie transmission of sound; thousnnd can enjoy the choruses. 


that distance, it was evident that not more than from 600 to 1000 
persons conld be accommodated in sach a room, assuming its width to 
be 40 or 50 ft., which was about as much as could then be conveniently 
roofed over. 

In order to increase the accommodation, the galleries or boxes, which 
had at first been only established at the far end of the hall, were carried 
also along the sides ; and of these, two, three or even four tiers were 
hitroduced. The next improvement was rounding off the comers, until, 
bit by bit, and step by step, the modem auditory was invented. This 
may generally be taken as represented by a circle described in the 
front of the curtain with a diameter about double the opening of the 
stage. In lyric theatres, where music only is performed, and where, 
consequently, hearing is easier and seeing less important, the curve is 
elongated into an ellipse, with its major axis towards the stage, so that 
the number of side Iwxes and the depth of the pit may be considerably 
increased. In theatres intended only for the spoken drama, where, 
consequently, hearing is more difficult and distinct vision more im- 
portant, the contrary process may be pursued with advantage, and 
the front Ixjxes brought nearer the stage than even the circular form 
would demand. 

The half of the circle farthest from the stage is generally allowed to 
remain unalteixxi, but the two quadrants next the curtain are opened 
out and Ix^it back in a variety of curves ; but, though volumes have 
l)een written, and the best architwtural talent of the world has been 
a])plied exi)erinicntiilly to the subject, the exact form in which this 
should l)e done is far from bfinj^^ settletl. It is exactly, however, the 
same class of j)roblem Jis that involved in the determination of the exact 
curve for a ship's lx)w or stern, the niidshiiis section in both cases 
lK*ing given. Neither of these problems has yet been finally solved, and, 
from their nature probably never will be, as the circumstances are 
continually altering ; but they are nevertheless \x)t\\ very near the best 
practical solution possible, and nearer it than any other problem con- 
nected with Architecture in modem times. This might be expected 
from the fact before noticed, that the curve of the auditory of a theatre 
is almost the only real question that can be submitted to the 
intellectual investigation of an architect at the present day. Being 
so, it may be worth while to try and explain briefly the principal con- 
ditions on which it rests. 

If it were not that the science of acoustics is one of the least perfect 
branches of human knowledge, and its pracjtical application certainly the 
least understood, it would be easy to explain the principles on which 
theatres should be arranged. But, in order to render what follows 
intelligible, it is necessary to say a few words as to the motion of the 
sound-wave. The most popular illustration of the diffusion of sound 
horizontally is obtained by the analogy of a stone being dropped into 



Book X« 

a piece of still water, when ciicnlar waves radiate in every direction, 
till at last thej die away altogether. But this involves two errors. 
First, to make the analogy at all represent the real circumstances of 

the case, the singer must be lying on his 
back, and sing or speak with his mouth 
upwards ; but this is never the case ; the 
voice is always thrown forward, and, 
practically, the form of the sound-wave is 
something very like the diagram. Wood- 
cut No. 298, the speaker being at A. In 
perfectly still air and where no interrup- 
tions occur, the sound-wave would always 
take this form. The second error lis, the 
assumption that sound is a succession of 
293. waves, such as those produced by dropping 

a atone in water, whereas the reverse is 
the case. The sound-wave is single, such as is produced in water by 
one blow or one action ; and all sounds travel with a practically uniform 
velocity, so that each sound gets out of the way of the next that 
proL-eeds from the same source. AVere it not for this, distinct articulation 
would l)e impossible. 

Knowing the form of the sound-wave, two (juestions arise which are 
both of the greatest possible importance to the theatrical architect. 

Firet, Are there any means by which its intensity can be increased, 
and its area can be extended ? 

Secondly, What are the circumstances which may interfere with its 
onward ]>rogre8s or its practical distinctness ? 

In order to answer the first, let it be 8upj)osed that a speaker or 

singer is standing at s in a scjuare room, 
A D G E. It is found practically that 
all the waves impinging against the 
wall between a and B, or under an 
angle of 45 degrees, are rellected, pro- 
ducing confusion, but no increase of 
intensity. Between b and c\ or up to 
57 degrees, the reflexion is so slight as 
hardly to be objectionable. Beyond 
tiiat there is no reflexion. The wave 
gradually assumes the form x Y, and, 
after travelling a little farther, becomes 
practically a straight line ; and if con- 
fined l)etween two walls, it will travel 
35^ infinitely farther than it would do if 

perfectly unconfined. 
The practical result of this description is, that, within the square in 


which the speaker is standing, no sensible increase of sound can be 
attained by any confinement, but great danger of confusion from 
reflexion. Beyond the square, the lateral limitation to dispersion be- 
comes more and more valuable as we proceed onwards, with no danger 
from the reflex wave, unless from u wall at the end, from which the 
wave coming back meets that going forward, and may produce confusion 
and indistinctness to a considerable extent. 

With regard to the second question, it is easy to answer, that, 
practically, the people sitting in the triangle s a b are in great danger 
of hearing very indistinctly in consecjuence of reflexion. If there was 
a wall at F B, a person at m could hardly hear distinctly ; and even if g D 
were a wall, a person at n coiild only hear indistinctly in consequence of 
the reflex wave and the remaining slight reflexion from a b. If the 
sound were single, it might ha only an echo : but if sounds followed one 
another in rapid succcBsion, a multitude of echoes would produce 
practical deafness, and at o and P hearing would be almost impossible 
under any circumstances, l>ut nnich nioix; difficult in the former than 
the latter position.^ 

If, for instance, the luicks of the boxes of a theatre were lined with 
mirrors, as has been proposed, and the fronts made of some hard 
jKjlished substance, it is more than probable that the words of a quickly- 
s|K)ken dialogue, or the notes of a quick piece of music, would be 
al)solute]y inaudible in even the smallest theatre ; whereas, if the l)ack8 
of the boxes were entirely removed, and the fronts reduced as nuich 
as possible,^ every sound would be heanl clearly and distinctly. 
The practical objection to this solution is, the difficulty of pR'venting 
external sounds from inteiTUpting the audience, and the necessity of 
still air for distinct hearing. 

The practical answer to the first (juestion is, that very little advantage 
is obtained by any confinement or guidance of the sound-wave. It is 
true that, if a room were 50 ft. wide and 500 long, those iKjyond the 
first 100 ft. would hear l)etter in conseciuence of the side walls, and 
those at oOo ft. might hear tolerably what without the walls thev would 
not hear at all ; but the r)O(K) people such a room would CH>ntain would 
hear infinitely l)etter in a room lOo ft. wide by 250 long; and I(),oOO 
might hear as well in a curvilinear-fonned room, adapted especially to 

' Th(5 only person I know of who has | dramafio literature. The theatre at LUbon 
thorouglily investigated the motion of | was considered one of the best in Europe ; 
the sound-wave, and studied its effect*, | yet, after a short time, they found tlie 
is Mr. Scott RusseU, to wl.ose researches sound in certtiin parts was lost, when it was 
I am mainly indebted for the above infer- discovered that it was in consequence of 
mation. certain passages at the backs of the boxes 

' A curious illustration of this is quoted being stopped up; and when they were 
by Mr. Bazhy. in his evidence before a reopened the power of hearing distinctly 
Ommittee of the House of Commons on returned ! 



Book X. 

the form of a sound-wave, without any confinement, but also it must be 
without any reflexion. 

It i& the form of the latter — which is involved in the second question 
— which is the great difficulty of the theatrical architect ; so that, after 
all, the answer to the iiujfuiries is far more negative than positive. It 
does not result hi the discovery of what should be done to increase the 
sound, so much as in a knowledge of what to avoid in order not to 
interfere with its smooth and uninterrupted progression. What an 
artist ought to think of when designing a theatre or concert-room is not 
how to increase the sound — that he may leave to itself — but how to 
prevent reflexion fn)m the voice of the speaker or singer ; how he may 
shut out external sounds ; and, lastly, how he lK«it can trap off the 
conversation or sound of one part of his audieiu^e so that it shall not 
disturb the rest — how, in fact, he can best produce* a silent tlieatre. 

Without attempting to pursue the al)strac^t quest ion further, it may 
be asserted that the wonderful instinct of the (J reeks, which enabled 

them always to do the very 
l)est thing })0S8il)le in all that 
concerns Art, caused them to hit 
on the very Ixjst form, in plan, 
for the tmnsmission of the 
giviitest quantity of sound, with 
the givatest (clearness, to the 
greatest jK>s.sil)le nunilKT. Their 
mtrhanic4il appIiancH.'S did not 
admit of their adopting a nM)f : but if we were now to build a place — 
irrespective of Mi-chitLH^tuml l)eauty — in which 2(),0()() weR^ to hear 
distinctly, we should adopt the plan of a (ii*(.*ek theatre,^ with probably 
a section similar to that shown in Woodcut No. '2\)o. 

The great dilticulty in applying a roof is, that, if any sound is 
reflected back from it at an angle of 45 degrees, it produces indistinct- 
ness of hearing on the i>art of the audien(»e ; and it must therefore be 
so constructed that tliis shall not l)e the case.^ 


* The flat floor of tlie Cn'utal Palace is ^ wave that is distributed over the floor U 
nearly fatal to itH use for great iiunibens ^ only a very small section of the wl.ole— 
as will easily be understood from the | not 10 degrees in 180. This would not 
annexed diagram ( Wo<xicut No. 2yG). In , Ix* a di^advantago if the floup wero 
the first place, the portion of the sound- | i)olislied glass or still water; but wl.en it 

is rough with human beings a great por- 
tion is alxsorbeil and lost, and the nht 
cannot travel with facility. The conse- 
quence is that a jierson at A, 200 ft. fmm 
the orchestra, hears very much lets per- 
fectly ilian one at n, 300 ft. distant. 

^ The great roof that has recently been 
erected over the Handel orchestra ot 
S}dcniiam is supposed to have incrested 



So far as mere hearing is concerned, it is only the greatest possible 
space within the limits of the sound-wave, in which perfectly still air 
and freedom from external sounds can be obtained ; but with seeing the 
case is different. The Greeks tried to get over this diflSculty bj the 
introduction of masks so broadly moulded as to admit of the markings 
being seen at a great distance ; and they elevated thdr actors on high- 
soled shoes, and used eveiy conceivable device to make them look large ; 
with what degree of success we can hardly judge. We escape this 
difficulty, to a considerable extent, by the introduction of opera-glasses 
and optical contrivances ; but with all our modern science, this will 
probably always limit the size of the auditory of modem theatres to 
alK)ut 100 ft. from the curtain to the front of the opposite boxes. The 
consequence is, that even a lyric theatre can hardly be constructed to 
accommodate more than 3000 or 8500 persons. A dramatic theatre is 
limited to about 2000 or 2500, though a concert-room might easily be 
made to contain 5000 to 10,000, and a festival-hall 15,000 to 20,000 

Besides these abstract fjuestions, which arise from the natural limits 
to our powers of hearing or seeing distinctly, there is still another 
inherent on the necessity of our seeing into a room or enclosed stage in 
which the greater part of the action takes place. This does not affect 
either the pit or the front boxes, but it is all in all to the side boxes, 
which are, in fact, tlie great crux of the theatrical architect. These are 
of iieeessity placed so <)l)li(|nely that only the persons in the front row 
can see at all, if the lM)xes aiv closed at the sides. If open, they see 
ol)li(liiely ; and, what is worse, if \\\\t\\ up, look almost perpendicularly 
down on the stage, which is jxTliaps the most unpleasant position in 
which a spectator c^m well l)e ])lace<l. 

This last inconvenience could be almost eiitinrly obviated by the 
arrangement suggested in Woodcut No. 297, keeping the centre boxes 
per|>enclicular one over the other, which is indispi^nsiible for seeing ; and 
if not the Ijest for sound, that defect may l)e remedied by using spft 
stuffs, which will al)sorb and so neutralise the evil effects of. what ought 
to be tnmsmitted. Then by throwing back each tier of side l)oxes till 
the last is a semicircle, the whole audience would sit more directly facing 
the stage, would look at it at a better angle, and the volume of sound l)e 

largely tlie volume of sound. Its proc- tingle notes mellowed. It had a similar 
tionl working, liowever, is this; it had eflfect on the chorus voices at the back, 
absolutely no effect whatever on the solo reflecting them forward at inipeiceptible 
voices or the instruments in front. It \ intervals, and so bringing the whole 
softens immensely, and increases the chorus more together, and delivering it 
power of the organ placed near the roof at ' to the audience as one grand voice, far 
tho back by reflecting and repeating its , more perfectly blended togetiier than was 
notes, but at bo immeasurably short an the case before the roof was erected, 
interval that they reach the au«lience as 



Book X. 


conBiderably increased throughout the whole house by its freer expansion 
immediately on leaving the stage. It would besides be an inmiense 
improvement in the appearance of the house, relieving the dull uni- 
formity of tiers of boxes piled 
one over the other in unvarying 
monotony, and would render the 
constniction also much, easier 
by dispensing with the iron 
supports of the boxes altogether. 
Another advantageous change 
will soon also be probably ac- 
complished. A few years ago 
two or three rows of orchestra 
stalls were all that were tolerated 
even in our lyric theatres, and 
they were unknown in the play- 
houses ; by degrees they are 
encroaching on the pit of tliese, 
and in our last Opera House the 
pit has become a nearly evanescent 
quantity. It is to be hoped it will soon disapjKuir altogether, for it 
cannot be denied that the ** jwrterre " is the lK*st place for seeing and for 
hearing, the most easy of aa-ess, and the iK^t ventilated. If it were so 
arranged as to fonn one with the lower tier of lK)xes, lx)th being 
accessible through the gixjat dress saloon, the improvement to the 
appearance of the house would l)e considerable, and the profits of the 
manager also prolmbly increaswl. 

This is not the i)lace, however, to insist on these and other obvioius 
ameliorations. The matter is in the hands of men of intelligence, and 
who have a shrewd appreciation of what is l)est, while there is no real 
olwtacle in the way of progress. The Classiciil examples, as has just 
been explained, are not suitable for models ; and most fortunately 
there are no Gothic remains to force managers to adopt the barliiirisms 
of the Middle Ages. The only misfortune is, that, in this country at 
least, economy both of space and money must alwavs l)e the ruling 
motive in every design, as all theatres are nien^ly }>rivate sjieculations. 
On the Continent, where the Government generally subsidises and 
controls, this should not be so ; and if the new 0])em House recently 
erectal at Paris is not a model of all that is excellent in acoustics and 
l)eautiful in form, it will be that France does not ]x)ssess an architect 
equal to the task. The situation is free and open, the expenditure 
unlimited, and all that is required is that between 2000 and 3000 
persons should l)e so placed as to sit luxuriously and hear clearly. 
With the experience already gainerl, and the unlimited means 
now available, there is no problem in modern theatre-building which 



Bhould not be advanced, almosi set at rest, by that great under- 

Although the interiorB of theatres in modern Europe have, for 
the reasons just stated, been treated according to the principles of 
common sense, their exteriors have unfortunately been handed over to 
the " dealers in Orders " in the same manner as other civil buildings ; 
and owing to their nature the application of these features has been 
generally less successful than elsewhere. The fact is, a theatre is 
a very multifarious building, and, in some parts at least, neither 
very dignified nor appropriated to dignified uses. It consequently 
is extremely difficult to make it look like Qiie grand hall, which is 
the aim of most architects, and still more so to make it look like 
a Roman temple, with which it has absolutely no affinity. These 
difficulties, however, are entirely of the architect's own creation. 
The dimensions of a theatre are almost' always magnificent, not 
only as regards length and width, but also in height, and they 
generally stand free and unencumlxjred ; so that an architect is 
certainly to blame, if, with these materials, he cannot make an 
im]X)sing design. 

The difficulty which has spoiled most of the external designs of 
theatres is that they arc composed of two very 
distinct })art8, as will easily be understood from 
the annexed diagnim. Woodcut No. 2[^S. The one 
devoted to the audience, consisting of the auditory, 
the Siiloons, staircases, and pissagcs — all these are 
on a s'lfficient scale and sufficientlv ornamental 
to Ix; treated in a dignitied manner ; but the other 
half, devoted to the stage, is surrounded by dress- 
ing-rooms, worksho])s, store-rooms, and offices of 
all sorts. Tht«e seldom re(iuire to be more than 
1(» or 12 ft. in height, while the siiloon may be 80 
or 4o. Where an^hitects have generally failcnl has 
lx*en in the attempt to make the stage part look 
as dignified as the audience h.ilf, or in desjmir have 
toned down the latter to the level of the more utilitarian division. 

If the f)art8 were accentuated as shown in the diagram, there is 
no reason whv thev should not l)e treated differentlv ; but every 
reason, indet^d, whv this should Ix; done : and if the whole were 
TK)un(l together by a bold uniform cornicione, and tlie angles all 
treated similarlv, which could easily lx> done, there is no reason whv 
the one jxirt should not be ten storeys high, and the other only two 
or three ; and if the vertical piers were sufficiently ])rominent and 
strong, the one may be made architecturally as l)eautiful and as 
dignified as the other. 

VOL. II. 2 c 




In lyric theatres the central shaded division would belong to the 
audience part, as that is always more important in them than in 
dramatic theatres ; in the latter it would belong to the stage, which 
requires a greater development ; and it of course, in either of these 
eases, ought to be treated according as that division is designed to 
which it belongs. 

This, unfortunately, is not the way the question has hitherto been 
looked at : and the consequence is, as we shall presently see, that no 
theatre in Europe can be considered as a perfectly successful design 
externally, though many, from their dimensions and the richness of 
their decorations, are very grand and imposing edifices. 

It is only to be hoped that some architect w ill one day apply to 
the exterior of a theatre the same principles of common sense which 
guide him in designing the interior, and we may then see a building 
worthy of its age and of the art of Architecture. 

Lyric Theatres. 

The theatrical buildings of Modem Europe may be classified under 
four distinct heads : — 

1. Lecture Theatres. 

2. Dramatic ditto. 

3. Lyric ditto. 

4. Music-Hails or Concert-Rooms. 

The first and last are governed by precisely the same principles, for 
whatever is good to speak in is also appropriate for singing, only that 
the greatly increased space-penetrating power of the modulated human 
voice enables the latter to be constructed on an immensely extended 
scale as compared with the former. Strange to say, although in our 
lecture-rooms we have generally adopted the princii)le8 of a rireek 
theatre, no large concert-room or music-hall exwpt the Albert Hall 
has yet been constnicted on the same plan. 

The lyric differ from the dramatic theatres only in this : that in 
the former, seeing being less important and hearing more easy, 
their auditory may be increased in extent ; and this may be done 
by a development of the side boxes in such a manner as would be 
inadmissible in a building where it is so es})ooially necessiiry that 
everything should be seen that passes on the stage. 

Were it not that the ballet is an almost invariable aceonijianiment 
to the opera, the stage in a lyric theatre might also be relatively very 
much diminished as compared with a dramatic : but as these spectacles 
re(|uire (juite as much space for their display as any dramatic repre- 
sentation, this is not usually found to Ix^ the case. 

Book X. 



The dimensioDS of the principal lyric theatres in Europe are 
exhibited in the following table : — 


Depth from 






tolMck of 







from back 









La Scala, Milan . . . . 






20X 80 

San Carlo, Naples . . . . 
Carlo Felice, Oenoa 



. 50 



• • 






40x 50 

New Opera House, Paris 
Opera House, London (old) 





• • 







22 X 66 

Turin Opera House . . . . 
Covcnt Garden, London . . 






• a 






25x 84 

St. Peteraburjrh Opera . . 






33x 85 

Academie de Musiquc, Puris 







Parma Opera 

Fenice, Venice* 





• • 

88x 38 





• • 

• • 

Munich Theatre . . . . 






• • 

Aladrid Theatre . . . . 





• • 

• • 

Alexandra, Petersburgh' 

. 79 





38x 40 

Darmstadt Opera . . . . 






28 X 56 







41x 80 

Vienna (old) 






• • 

From the above table it will be perceived that there are at least 
six Ijric theatres in Italy of the first class, and nearly of the same 
dimensions. The Scala at Milan is in some respects the largest of 
these, and is generally admitted to be the best arranged both for 
hearing and for seeing, so far as the last is thought indispensable 
for an opera-house. 

As far back as 1719 Milan possessed what was then the largest 
theatre in Europe, erected from the design of Barbieri ; but this was 
entirely destroyed by fire in 1770, when the present theatre was com- 
menc^ed from the designs of the celebrated Piermarini, and completed 
in two years. 

Its length is 320 ft. ; its width 130 ; and it covers consequently 
about 40,000 square feet, or something less than the ordinary dimen- 
sions of a Mediaeval cathedral, though its cubic contents are. probably 
more than the average of these buildings. The fa9ade towards the 

* The princi|)al part of the information 
in this table is taken from the plates 
in Clement Constant's 'PamllMo des 
Tbe&tres Modemes,' one of the very best 
and most useful works on the subject; 
but the reader must be warned that there 
ore several sources of error which it is 
almost impossible to guard against. First, 
the general incorrectness of all plans; 

secondly, the carelessness with which 
scales are too often applied, especially in 
French works ; and labtly, that theatres 
are continually chunging, either from 
being burnt down, or from improvements ; 
for, as they are works of true Art, no one 
ever hesitdtes to improve them to any 
extent that may bo required. 

2 C 2 


Book X. 

Pliux: is more pleasing than most of the designs for theatrical fa^es, 
though of no great architectural pret«ii8iori8, conaJatitig of the ufiual 
clcmente: a rusticated basement, including 
an eutregole ; a principal storey, with a 
Corinthian Order ; and au attic. As there 
is only one range of windows under the 
Order, and the parts are well proportioned 
to one another, all this is unobjectionable ; 
and if the Order must be used, there was not 
much else to be done. But the architect's 
chance was ou the flank. Here he builtan im- 
mense tvail :^(i(i ft. long, DO ft. high, and with 
nothing pai-tieular to control his arrange- 
ments except this — that in parts it is seven 
and eight storep in height, and all these of 
nearly txjual dignity, or rather equal want of 
To carry the Oi-der of the liel 6tage all 
round was consequently out of the question ; 
and, Iteiiig (checked in this, he seems to hare 
gis'en np the attempt in despair, and left the 
sidL-s of his building loukii^; veiy like a Man- 
chesu-r cotton-mill. Had he only grouped 
fc-^^'—^ his oiKuings a little, sta'iigthcned the piers 

^"kii^'i'uo'fMii^'Hn^""'' between them, and added a cornice at the 
top, with a moderate amount of dressings to 
the windows, he would lia\'e produced the most original and striking 
facade in the vity : but this would have reEjuired an amoimL of thought 
which was not then exaetj.-d from any architect, so he left it as it is — 
imposing from iu mass, but wholly devoid of Hn-hit(.'('tiir!il merit, 

InliTialiy, the auditory is surrounded by se\en tiers of Iwxes, 
similar in extent and 
height, and very nearly 
MO in design. There is 
no " Italeon " iis js usual 
in French thiitres and 
III) galleries as m our^ 
There is no donbt that 
this extrcmi. sim]»hcitj 
of ar rang!, men t dues 
give a \<.r\ i onxidcr- 

Juu. F.^ ot U ScU, MIlM, S...1. iU («l lo . inch. ^^|^|^ ^,^^,^^ ^f _j. ^^^ j^^^ 

to tile internal appearance of the building, but it challenges also a itr- 
Uiiii niominieiital class of treatment in which theatres arc generally 
very deficient ; and when this simplicity is carried to the e\Unt it is lu 
Italy, it is not fiw; from the i-eproach of monoUmy. Still, when lighted 

Bom X. 


and well filled vith a brilliant audience — as is generally the case — the 
effect of the auditoiy of the Scala is nnaurpaaeed by any other theatre 
of Modem Europe : and ita aconatic properties are alBO good ; the 
greatest objection being th^ the hoses in the upper tiers near the 
st^e are more than usually iucouvenient for either seeing or hearing. 

As will be olisunud from the plan, a small salon or cabinet is 
attached to the greater nuratwr of the boxes — not immediately, but 
across tlic passage. In one respect this is objectionable, inasmuch as, 
if adjoining, the anteroom is valuable in preventing the interference of 
external sounds ; on the other hand, as situated here, each salon has 
access to external light and air, which iu a theatre aometimea used in 
daylight, and in tlie Italian climate, is an immense advantage. The 

exjslencu of these seven tit-re of smull uibincts wiirt one of the ciuises 
why the architect desjiainid of rendering l\\v. siilea of liia building 
architectural, and refrained from attemiiting tu hannonise them with 
the principal fu9adu containing the great saloon and other state ajiart- 
mcnts of the building. 

Xext in importance to the ^la is the Kan Carlo Tb<.utre at 
Xiiples, bttilt in 17.1". and reconstnicted very nearly on the same plan 
iifti.-r thci fire in IHKi, Exteniully, ita fa9ade is by no means without 
originality or merit. But the height of the baaement, in ft., is too 
great for that of the upjier storey, which reaches only in ; and the 
whole height of 0(1 ft. is diaproportioned to the other dimensions of 
the building. Internally, too, tlie size and heigltt of the boxes are 
very much greater than in the Scala. There arc only li tiirs instead 
of 7 in height, and ii* in plan instead of .IU in each tier. This 
increase in their dimensions is not sntlicient to give them a cliurueter 
of grandeur, but on tlie contrary, only tends to make the whole tbeatri' 



look veiy much smaller, besides diminishing the accommodation to a 
very considerable extent. 

The theatre of Carlo Felice at Genoa, and that at Parma, differ 
very little from these except slightly in dimensions, only that they 
possess saloons of large dimensions and richly ornamented ; and that 
of Turin possesses the rudiments of a gallery alx)ve the l)oxes. 

The two grejit theatres of St. Petersburgh and that of Moscow are 
on the same scale, and arranged internally very much in the same 
manner, as these great Italian examples ; except that in Italy there is 
a certain air of completeness and of fitness, as if the people and the 
theatre belonged to one another, which is somehow wanthig in the 
Russian examples, and gives an exotic look to the whole. Externally, 
however, the Russian theatres are very grand masses : they stand 
perfectly free, have great porticoes of pillars at one end, not ver}' 
congnious perhai>s, but very large, and the whole luia a dignified and 
im|X)sing look ; though, like most of the buildings in that countr}*, 
showing very little thouglit, and a design that will not l)ear dissection. 

Our own (){>era House, Haymarket, Ixjfore the fii*e, was modelled 
on the Scala at Milan, which it resembled in most res[)ects internally, 
exccjit in the introduction of a spacious upper gallery, which to a 
certain extent destroys the grand simplicity of the design of its 
prototyix; : and considering the difficulties of the c^ise, Xash probably 
shoved more abilitv in fusinii: toij^ether the various elements he had 
to deal with on the exterior, than in anv other desijjjn he carried out. 
It is not very gnnid, but, as more than half of the external elevations 
consist of sho])s and dwelling-houses, it was not easy to make much 
out of such heterogeneous materials. 

The 0])era House at Paris, or Academie de Musi<|ue, as it is 
usually called, is const nicted on totally different principles from 
those just desiTilx-'d. It is, in the fii"st place, veiT nnich smaller, 
containing only four tiei-s of boxes, and these of less extent. It has 
l)esides capacious galleries. The great distinction, however, is the 
extent to wiiich decoration is carried, and the innnense development 
of the accessory apiitments. It may l>e a (piestion whether the four 
groups of pillars which are introduced to give apjuirent support to 
the dome ai*e legitimate modes of decoration, or whether the simple 
outline employed by the Italians is not l)etter. Wherever they may 
Ix; placed, they miist obstruct the view of a certain number of persons. 
But ought a great national theatre to Ik? constructed on the simple 
])rinciple of accomimwlating the greatest numl>er of persons ? The 
auditory is generally as plcasiiig and often as interesting a ])art of 
the entertainment as what passes on the stage ; and a certain amount 
of decoration, even at some sacrifice of space, is surely a legitimate 
expenditure there. A more jxTtincTit question is, whether that effect 
is best attained by introducing Corinthian cohnnns as in the Paris 


Opera lloiiee, or whether the eame richiieas of effect might have been 

obtained without breakiii(f the 

simple outline of the cune 

wliich is so pleasing in Italian 

theatres ? The French alone 

seem to lie of opinion that the 

iiitnxluctitin of pillars in this 

posiliun JB Icgitiiimte ; and at 

Boi'deuUK, Maraeilles, and other 

plai'Wf they adhere to tliem, 

thoujrh other nations have 

ahmdoiuil the idea of aiiy- 

tiiiri^ Ku (.'laBsicul iu their 

theiitres. XotwithstuiididH 

this, the house is much ud- 

mii'ed liy thoHe who freijuciii 

it for ila acoustic properties, 

and also for the facility with 

which [he Btaf,'c can lie 81*11 ; 

the hitter i|uality is principally 

owintr to the Iwxes l)eiu<r only 

[NUtially iiiHlead of wholly 

cli«ed. iis is trcnerally the cage 

in jtaliiin thuktres and wilh 

«H— tlioui,'h why we bIhihUI adop 

principle is by no 

AcadflUlP 4« HwlqiiF. P«i<. Sole M fcrt tn 1 Incti. 


mtians clear, as it not only circiimBcribes the power of seeing Imt of 
being seen — the partial opening adding also immenaely to the brilliant 
appearance of the house. 

The Paris Opera House vae commenced, in 1 820, under the direction 
of M. Debret, to replace an older house palled dott^l in consequence of 
the murder of the Due de Berry in its vestibule in that year : and, as 
hint«d atiove, is now about to give way to what is intended to Iw the 
most magnificent theatre in Europe. 

■M Open Iloui 

In its present unfinished xtate it ia of course quite iniiwKsihle to 
speak with anytliing bke confidence of the inti^rior of the neiv i.lpura 
Ho'.ise now in course of erection ; but. as will \k seen from the table 
on page 387 and the plan, Woodcut 301, its auiiitory is to be of the 



UBuat dimensions of a firet-claae Opera House ; bat the saloon accom- 
modation, aa H'ill be seen by the plan, is enormoos, meaanring prac- 
ticHll; 1.^1) feet hy IGO, or 20,000 square feet. Itia, in fact, meant to he 
a Palace of Mnsic where fStee and balls of all sorts can be held, rather 
than A simple lyric theatre. Externally, the building is 490 feet by S28 
atToss the transepts ; and as it will cost at least a million sterling, it 
miiy he said to he a larger and more important building than onr St. 
Paul's, and is so like it in general form, barring the dome, that we 
might uxptct it to be nearly as dignified in appearance. It cannot 
however, be considered a success in any respect. It is rich ; the 
ornament ia appropriate, and always especially so to the parte to 
which IL is applied — more so than perhaps in any other building of 
till; same pretensions in Europe : but witii all this, there is a want 


(Hj^fl'iT^ ff"^ 


ySb'-sl.:- ,;^--^ 

of dignity and accentuation which detnicts from its appaitnt dimen- 
siuns, and learca >i most nnplcasiiig impi-cssion on the mind of the 
s|K.i'[ator, Without more drawings and dimensions than arc yet 
iiviiilahk', it is difticult to point out where the eiTor esactiy lies, 
bnt certaiTily what ought to liave been one of the most perfect and 
lieiiutiful buildings in Europe fails to produce the effect the world was 
entitled to expect from the talent and money apent in its production. 

At Stunich there is a very large and handsome Opera House, with 
file tiers of Iwxes, wliich are aiTange<l on a perfectly circular plan, 
more' apparently with refeivncc to arehitectui-^1 effect than to the 
more important considenitions that ought to guide an architect in 
designing a theatre. Externally, it has the usual stereotyped plan 
»do)ite(l in Russia and frequently in France, of a great portico of pillars 



Book X. 

covering two stonivs of windows, with a block of plain niaBonry on either 
hand ; the whole being nnobjectionable, bnt nsele^s and incongruous. 

The Berlin Opera House was originally built by Frederick the 
Great, but has lieen entirely remodelled internallv, and is now said 
to be one of the most comfortable houses in Europe for seeing and 
hearing in. It is ver}' sniiill, however ; for, tliough it has a disprofxir- 
tionately large saloon, it does not altogether cover ft., or half 

the dimensions of the Scala, and alx>ut one-tifth of 
that of the proposed new house in Paris. 

The Old 0|)era House at Vienna, though small, 
possesses a peculiarity of plan worthy of remark. 
The auditory widens towards the stage, instead of 
contracting, ais is usually tlie case. It is not quite 
clejir that it could U* cairied out on a much larger 
scale ; but in this instance it affords the occupants 
of the side l)oxes a far l>etter op|x>rtunity of seeing 
than in most theativs. It i*ertainlv seems to Ix^ an 
improvement, unless it is considercil that the two, 
or, at the utmost, the three jK'rsons (M*cupying the 
front scjits are those only who are practically to Ik* 
taken into account in the arrangement of a Imc 
theatre. The result in this instance, is sjiid to l)e [xjifect, but on so 
small a scale it would iierhap l)e difficult to fail.* 

806. Old Open U»u«e, 

Scale 100 feet to 1 inch. 




Hi8tori(|iu', Paris 
Drurv Laiu*. Lnndt^n 





B<'rlin (Schiukel) 



Italieiia. Parin 

Hiiytuarkct, L«ih1 ii .. 
l-yceuiii, «litto . . 
Adelphi, ditto . . 

1 >.-iitli from 





to bjck uf 








Curt 1 In. 









1 1 











25 X 18 





• ■ 

• • 



; :J--i 









• • 












• • 












• • 





• • 

• • 



1 HO 


• • 




, 'M\ 








• • 

• • 

m mm 





• a 




• • 

• • 

> I Lave been iiimblo to procure any it It tiecni8 n tirdt-cla^ hou»e in frO tar 
inch trustworthy plans or dcttcriptiond of , as size and decorution ori? conoerne*!, and 
tlie New ()p«'ra House, at Vienna, a8 its HrranjrmMMjts are well si)oken of. 
would enable me to write a dt'Boription of 

Book X. 


The theatre at Bordeaux is certainly thy tnoet magnificent of its 
class in Europe, whether we consider its internal or external arrange- 
ments, thongh it is not so easy to decide 
whether or not these are always the ' 
most judicious or in the best ta8t«. 
erection was commenced in the year | 
17(it, from the designs of Victwr Louis, i 
on the site of a citadel that had lonp [ 
commanded the city, and the removal 
of which was then determined u[)oii. 
Owing, however, to difficulties and delays ' 
that occurred during thu progress of the 
works, which nearly drove the nnfortn- , 
nate architect road, the bulhling was ■ 
only completed in 1780. Its dimen- ' 
sions are very considerable, being 28i) ft. , 
long by 151 in width, and consequently 
covering nearly 42,1)00 ft,, or more ' 
ground thnti the ^^la at Milan ; but of ' 
this great area a much smaller portion is 
occupied by the auditory and stage tlian 
is usiiid either in lyric or dramatic S(all«lll«^nu.lln■ii, 


Except the Madeleine and the Bourse at Paris, there is perhaps no 
other building in FniiK^e of the same size that carries out so coni]>letcly 
the endeavour to Uwk like a tem]ilc of the Ronians as this one. In 
front there is a jiortico of twelve t-orinthiiin itilliire standing free ; and 
on the tianks and rear tlio aime Order is csirrieil i-ound in the fonn of 
pilasters attoclieil to jiiers, but allowing of ctii'riilui's of conuutiniciition 
all i-ound the buildiii'' uxUTiiiillv. The (h-iliT is 4l> ft. in lieigiit, and 

iiKii>4l Fiwtde at tbt Tbutn U Di'rtm 


IB 8unnonnt«d by an attic which rather detmcte from its dignity, 
especially as it is again BDrmounbed by the enormous and crushing 
roof indispensable in a theatre. Perhaps it woold have been better if 
the Order had been placed on a boldly-msticaCtid basement and the 
attic omitted ; but every way it was an error to introduce the Order at 
all. It never could express the construction or the internal arrange- 
ments of the imilding ; and, by preventing the introduction of more 
than three storeye in height in any part, it introduces a degree of 
falsehood, accompanied by iTiconvenience, which more than counter- 
balances the pleasure derived from its magnificence. 

Internally, an Order has been introduced with almost equal promi< 
nencc into the auditory, and with the same l«d effect. It gives no 

doubt a Classical air to the wliole interior, but the second and third 
tiers of boxes liccome balconies fixe<l to the pillars at a third and 
two-thirds of their height without any bracket or apparent support. 
The eye of the engineer is offended that so nmch useful sight should 
he obstmcted, and the artist that the constrnction should not be 
accentuated and visible. Still, of it« class, it is one of the grandest 
to Ix! found anywheii! ; and if we must be Classical and modern at the 
same time, it will not Ik easy to tlnd a more successful compromiHC 
tiian the firand Theatre at Bordeaux. 

Tluit at Lyons can by no means compete with the Bordeaux Theatre 
either in dimensions or in magnificence. Still it is a very fine building, 
and is interesting as being the first in which the present arrango- 
ment of the boxes was cuTiwl to perfection. It was commenced 



in 1754, from the design of the celebrated Sufflob, the architect of the 
Pantheon at Parig, and was considered so succesafn), both for hearing 
and seeing and being seen, that it became the type of all future theatres 
in France ; and, with very slij^ht alterations, the form then introduced 
continues to be followed in almost every new 
erection of this clasB. This theatre fell into 
decay in the b^iuning of this century, and 
was recotistnicted as it now stands between the 
years 182Cand 1831. The plan (Woodcut No. 
itlO) shows the building as origiually con- 
structed by Sufflot, and after all the experience 
we have had, it does not really seem that we 
havf! advanced much beyond the point wliere 
he left it. The whole is simply and economic- 
ally arranged, all the parts well proportioned to 
one another and to the uses to which they are 
applied. The most remarkablo peculiarity is, 
that it has a storey or saloon accessible to the 
public below the floor of the pit (as showTi on 
the right-hand side of the plan), which certainly 
seems a convenience that would oon]))ensate the 

public for mounting some l.j ft. higher than they would have to do if it 
welt! omitted. 

Perlia|» the thoiitre wJiich deviates most from the stun.-otj'ped 
amingement ii tJiu TheAire Historique, erected in Paris in lH4(i. In 
this instance the auditory is neither an ellipse with its longer axis 
coincident with that of the stage, as usual in IjtIc theatres, nor a cia-lc, 
as is generally the c-ase in those devoted to the spoken drama, but uti 
ellijiec with its major iixis nt 
right angles to that of the stage. 
One iumiensc advantage gained 
by this is, that all the audience 
sit facing the pi'osceiiium, and 
not sideways, as is usual, and 
consetiuentjy see the performance 
with far more eiise and conifoii 
to t]ii'm.selves, though, it must Ih- 
confessed, somewhat at the cx- 
jieiise of the architectural effect 
of the auditory itself. The one 
question is, (.'an an nunilier 
be uccoinmodated by this arrangement as by the other ? So far as 
experience has yet gone, it seems that they can ; and, con8e(|Uently, a 
tendency towards this form lias been shown in some of the recent 
constructions both in France and in this country. In the Th6fttre 


Historique the principal object aimed at was to obtain immense galleries 
to oocommodute the clam of persons who lived in the neighbonrhood 
of the Boulevard du Temple, in which it was situated. But if the pit 
were converted into liret-clara plactis — as hinted alwve might be the 
case — such un amingenient would seem singularly applicable to 
accoumiodato all clasaea a ppro]ir lately. 

licfliik-s thew pnblii: theatres. France possesses what no other nation 
ha.s uii Hiiythiiig like the same scult; — a priiabe thcata> in tlm Palace of 
Vfreailles, which, though exceptional, is 
])erhap8 on that ven- account the more 
worthy of study. The great difference 
lictweeu it and those \vc have Itecn cou- 
sidfrinK is, that it is no luiifrer a iiuestion 
how to accommodate the finatest |H>ssible 
number ; sUitc and convenience have more 
to Ix' consideriHl than pnilit or loss. The 
('i)«si'c|iiL'nce is, the pit is very cirenni- 
BcrilH.tI ; Irtit in the centre, instead of a 
royal box, is a fntind ]ilatform. on which 
the king and all his cuurtiui-H could sit 
and Ik.' admired, while the l)oxi« are so 
arwii^-d !Ls to complete the pictun-, look- 
ing more towards llic riiil king than 
tii\vnnla liim who onlv "struts hU hour 



njKin the 

lal iwil iif the jialacc. a.s constnictud 

Book X. 


by Mansard, bat vas conBtnicted from the design of Gabriel, in 1769, 
and restored in the reign of Louie Philippe in the manner repreeented 
in the Woodcnt No. 313. Taken for what it is, it mnst certainly be 
considered as very successful ; but still, where money was no object, 
and the number of persons to be accommodated not necenarily taken 
into consideration, something lees like a public theatre might have 
been thought of — something that would have looked more like the hall 
of a great palace, and less like what is seen in the neighbourhood of 
the Boulevard St. Martin,' 

Since the destruction of Covent Garden we have only one first-class 
dniTnatic theatre in England — that of Drniy Lane. Its dimensions 
are 135 ft. in width, and 240 in length, 
covering, consequently, some 82,000 ft., 
which, though not so large as Boi'dcanx and 
some others, are still noble dimensions. 
The anditory is arranged on the circular 
pkn, and, as there are verj' few trlosed 
boxes, the audience can see with tolerable 
facility what passes on the stage. The 
saloons and staircases are arranged with 
more dignity and on a larger scale than is 
likely to be again adopted in an English 
liifiiire. the cUias of people who fre(|nent ] .T^ 
this ]iiirt not Iwing such as again to induce ^i ^ 

mnch outlay for their accommodation. 
This house holds conveniently some SOiiO 
persons, which is about as laip; an audience 
as can well be present at any kind of 
dramatic rci)reseii union in a modern theatre ; ^'*' ^ "oo'twlw'n^h'"'"' 
and even then it «iii only l)e the grander 

class of tragedies or the slatelieet comedies that are suitable to so lat^.'e 
a liuilding. All the light^jr and more jilayful pieces are far better 
apprtfiatod in smaller houses ; and as these have become the most 
fashionable, it is not likely we ahull again see houses built of these 
dimensions in this conntr}'. 

Many of the smaller theatres in ]>ondoii. as well as in the provinces, 
show not only great skill in their arrange in en is, but also great taste in 
their deconicion ; but they are all so ecoiiomically built as hardly to 
come within the class of architectural obj«;ts; and even if it were 
otherwise, the fact of their being all either built or having assumed 
their pa-scnt form by the hands of living architecia would pre\eTit any ■ 


V detailed criticLsi 

1 tiieir merits finding a place here. 

• Immwido. wiib verj sliglit Rltcmtkm, the wnnte-hoiue of 


The Germans have written a great deal about the best form rf 
theatres, but, after a very long and angry polemic, they do not aeein to 
have arrived at any conclnsiong 
difFering very materially from 
thoee which the practical sense of 
other nations had arrived at before 
they brought their learning to 
bear on the subject. The one 
point which they seem to consider 
as a discovery is, that truth re- 
quires tliat the form of a theatre 
externally shall express the curve 
of the Iwxes internally. The 
conseiiuence is, that Semper has 
adopted this fonn at Dresden, 
ji.. Tb».r...M.j,™«. swi..Mf..«.iin. copying it from Moller, wiio had 
introduced it at JIaycnce in l^i^O ; 
and it has licen adopted elsewhere, though with some mod iti<»t ions. In 
this instance, however, the tnith turns out to Ik falsehood, or, at least, 
pedantry', to a considerable extent. A CItissical theatre which consistfid 
only of one great couch of concentric gradini, with all its means oS 

comniutiii'iuiori "iihin the cin-le. could, in fad, Ix' only so R'pivscnted 
with truth on tlie I'Xtcrioi'. Hut a motlci'ii llii-atix> is a very different 
affair. The construction almost re(|uirus two staircases at the back 
of the Ikixcs in the angles of the (|uadrants ; there nmst l>e saloons and 
re fn-shn lent -rooms l>chind the \mxvii, offices imd apurtnients on the 
sides. In fact, a rectangular jilan fits far moix^ easily to so coin pi legated 
a congeries of parts ; and to sacrifice all ihis coineniciice for the sake of 


expressing externally the form of only one part, is not architectural 
truth. Even supposing it were so in a limited sense, and that con- 
venience is to be sacrificed to truth, it is necessary to carry the prin- 
ciple much further, because three storeys, externally each 25 or 80 ft. 
high, do not express the three or four tiere of boxes, ranged only 10 ft. 
one above the other, with pit, gallery, and all the other parts of a 
modem auditory. This, however, is what is supposed to represent 
tnith in the theatre at Mayence, wliich is considered the typical 
example of this class in Germany. As beforc mentioned, it was erected 
from the design of Dr. Moller, and was opened in the year 1832. In- 
ternally, there is a considerable degree of taste displayed in the 
arrangement and decoration of the boxes, and the absence of any on 
the proscenium is an improvement that might with advantage be 
copied elsewhere. The introduction of the Corinthian Order over the 
boxes in front of the galleries is also a very pleasing feature, and in a 
court theatre, like that of Versailles, perfectly admissible, but so 
destnietive of lx)th seeing and hearing on the part of large numbers of 
the audience as to Ixj intolerable in a public theatre. 

Externally the cuiTilinear form rendera it impossible to procure a 
covered descent for carriages, and rclegates the staircases to very 
inconvenient positions. In fact, the whole arrangements of this 
theatre are sacrilieed to a Classical ideal more essentially than was 
done at Bordeaux ; and, although the Ordere here are used with more 
propriety and elegance, their introduction is eijually a mistake, but, 
on the whole, iK-Thajw, more prejudicial to truthful Art in the 
Gennan than in the French example. 

At Antwerp the architect of the theatre felt compelled by public 
opinion to adopt this form ; but like a itjasonable architect he inserted 
a 8<|nare block of building Ixitween his external curvilinear arcade 
and the back of his boxes, and into this he put his staircases, saloons, 
&c.y and so i^econciled both theories. 

But the whole is a mistake, and will hardly be repeated, so it is 
hardlv worth insistini' on. 

The case is widely different with a new class of theatre which 
has recently l)een introduced in Gennany, and might perhaps, with 
certain modifications, be made suitable to even our climate. These 
theatres are double. In the centre* is the stage, of the usual dimen- 
sions, with wings for scenery, &c., but perfectly flat ; at the side 
next the street is an auditor>' of the usual fonn and dimensions, 
with all the acconij)animent8 and arrangements of ordinary theati-es 
used for night perfonnances, and is called the Winter Theatre. At 
the other end of the stage is an auditory of a ver}' different character 
— ornamented so as to bear the light of day, lighted by large win- 
dows at the side or from the roof, and surrounded by arcades opening 
on a garden. This theatre, of course, can only be used in daylight, 
VOL. ir. If D 



Book X. 

and practically onlj in summer, though, for morning concerts and 
minor performances, it might be used all the year round. 

Tliis really does look like an invention ; and at a time when late 
dinner-hours and midnight company have drivtMi the upper classes 
almost entirely from our theatres, some such ex])edient as this niay 
restore its pre-eminence to the legitimate drama. There is no reason 

in the world why a play of Shake- 
speare's should not 1)e as intea-sting 
if seen with fresh air and the blessed 
light of day as if seen in a close 
atniosphca* by the glare of gas- 
lanii». All j)retence of immorality 
would l)e done awav with bv dav- 
light, and so would nine-tenths of 
the 8tuge-t ricks which liave so in- 
jured the rwd grandeur of the 
hiirher class of dramatic perfomi- 

The manner in which this double 
arra!i«:c!ncnt has Urn carrietl out 
by Titz, in the Victoria Theativ, is 
as successful as anything of its sort 
in (Jcnnany. The dc<?oration is 
truthful throughout, and elegant 
at the siLinc time : and the garden- 
front, for its (iinuMisions and cha- 
racter, is as jileasing a design as 
anv that has U't'u n-ivntlv carried 
into ellei'l in that <'onnlrv. 

In conset{uen(t.'of its double apse 
the liiniensions of the building are considerable. It is :\Ui ft. in 
length, and aUau 1 ^» in extivnie l»n';nith, covering nUnii :\'2jnHy 
s<iiiare ft., or nearly the Siune sirea as our l)niry Lane. 

The <»nlv other t heat a- in (iernianv, that im assesses anvthinir so 
oriirinal as to l.>e worthy of remark, is tiie sohmUlmI Xational Theatixj at 
Ik-riin, coninieiK'fil in \f<\\), from desiirns l»v the celebrateil S-hinkel, 

ft ' 

and tinishcil in the following year. Thenr is no theativ in Euro|ie 
which can c<»in]»!nv with its external ordinance, cither for l>eanty or 
ap]»roj)riateness. unless it In? tlie Victoria Theaiiv just di-scril^l. 

The disign (\V<Mxlciit No. :^17) consists, first, of a ]K)diuni or l»ase- 
ment, rnsticatnl, but in ]K-rfect pro]K>rtion to the suiiei-stniciinv ; 
abovt* this are two ninges of sfrhs, si'jKirating the building into two dis- 
tinct and well-defined storeys, and admitting of any reijuiitfl amount of 
liglit U'ing introiluccil into the interior, without any violence or false- 
liood. All may lie open, or every alternate one tilled in with a ]>anel — 


Virtitria 'I heatTP. Berlin. 
S'«li- liiU fec-t Ui 1 iiiili. 


anj nirangement, in fact, may be adopted that is required for internal 
convenience. The angles are strongly accentuated by bold piere, and 
the flanks divided by similar masses into compartments, so that there 
is no want of strength anywhere. The ceutnit compartment is raised 
considerably above the rest — not only breaking the ontline pleasingly, 
and giving it dignity, but at once marking the character of the build- 
ing. Ttie only objectionable feature is a portico of six wideiy-spaced 
columns in the front, at the bead of a very splendid flight of steps. 
These features are well designed and beautiful in themselves, but the 
portico is seen te be useless ; and as for the stairs, the entrance is not 

AodlKirj of Uie Vktorln Tliuirr, BerLli 

nil liiit Hii'li'r them j and a grand flight of steps that nobody is to ascend 
is about as ridiculona an ol)ject iw can well be conceived. Sotwith- 
stunding this one aob^ism, which was jtiirtly excns;iblc from the 
situation of the church on the Gens-d'arinea i'lats, between the 
two porticoed propylea of Frederick, this theatre may proliably lie cim- 
sidei-ed as Strhinkel's masterpiece, and certainly is the best adaptation 
of fireek ArchitLKitnre to such a purpose that ban yet lx«n elTecied 
either in Germany oi' elsewhere. Internally, tiie arrangements are by 
no means so successful. Convenience has k'cn sacriflced to Olas- 
sicaliiy to a greater extent than even at ^fayenco ; and though exten- 

2 D 2 


Bive alterations have been made bIqcc it was fiTst opened, it a not 
either a comfortable theatre to Bit in, nor well adapted for hearing 
distinctly what is passing on the stage. 

The theatre which 
the same architect 
erected at Hamburgh is 
singnlurlf plain and 
simple in its an-ange- 
uiunts, both cxt«niallj 
and int«riull7 ; but 
from these vcrj' circum- 
stitriccs avoids many of 
the errorn and incon- 
VGnien<«s of its mom 
amhitiiiiia rivals ; and 
with a very little more 
ornament might be con- 
siderud us snccessful as 
an architectnnil design 
M«ie tmi KM lo 1 Inch. as it ia said to be at; 

a playhouse. 
On the whole the (iuiinaus can hardly Iw eongratnlated on their 
achievements in this dejiartmeut of Arehitutlural Art. Their theatres 
want the elegance and ap{>ropriate ehi-erfuhieiM wiiieh chai-acteriae 
those of Fnince ; thty have not even the Inisiness-like udajitaliun to 
theii' puiiKwes to lie found in ihoiie of Eiiglauil : while they certainly 
are defieient in the Bim|>le nnatTittted giiindenr of tinise of Italy, They 
seem, however, ii()W to be entering on the lusk with a wrrecter appre- 
ciation of the conditions of tlie problem, and may yet do gurnet hi ng of 
which they may hereafter lie justly proud. 

Ml'sic Halls. 

The English arc tlio only people who have hitherto erected hallB 
or theatres s|)ecinlly for the perfonuance of music ; but that 
class of entertainment is now so great a favourite with llie public, that 
it ]U'oiuises tu l)eei)ine an iiu|K>rtant institution with us. Already halls . 
have been erected at Itirniinghan, ilaiichester, I.iverjxwil, Leeds, 
Bradfoixl, and otlier places ; Ixtsidcs Exeter, St. .lames'ti, and 8t. 
^[urtin's Ualls, in the metropolis. All these, however, are mavii too 
small fur the puiitose, tlie largest of them lieiug hardly cajiable of 
accomiuodatin^ 2(»m persona : whereas a chonia of .Mm performers 
with Hucii a iKind an Id ncually found, foi- instance, in Exeter Hall, 
iviuld just as easily Im? heai-d by ."iDiui jieimina in a proiH.-rly-constnicted 

Book X. MUSIC HALLS. 405 

building ; and the increase of size would not prevent the solos being 
as well if not better heard by the same numbers ; but if the building 
were really well arranged, 5000, or even 10,000, might hear as distinctly 
as 2000 do now. 

All these halls have been constructed on the rudest possible prin- 
ciples ; they are mere oblong rooms, sometimes Anth a gallery along 
the sides and in front, and generally with a flat floor. It is, in fact, the 
old Tennis Court arrangement which preceded the pitjsent theatres ; 
yet, strange to say, when we build a lecture-room, either in the Uni- 
versities or our scientific institutions, we adopt almost literally the 
principles of the old Greek theatre ; and we know perfectly well that 
what would make the spoken voice heard would also be suitable to the 
singing voice ; only that the latter could be heard with equal distinct- 
ness at three or four times the distance. All that c^n really be said in 
favour of these halls is, that they are much better suited for the purj)08e 
than the cathedrals in whi(!h these choral performances took place l)efore 
their erection ; but neither the one nor the other is at all worthv of the 
science of the present day, nor of the glorious class of performances to 
which they have been appropriated. 

A very great advance has recently been made in our kno\vled<re of 
this subject from the experience of the performances at the Crystal 
Palace. On several occasions theixi, from 15,000 to 20,000 i)ei*80U8 
have heard the choruses of Handel in a very perfect manner, and one- 
half that numl)er have heard the solos with very enjoyable distinct- 
ness ; yet the Crystal Palace is about the worst possible building, 
except in so far as size is concerned, for the puqwse. The floor is 
perfectly flat : the galleries accommodate very few, but are thrust most 
obtrusively into the area, so as to hinder those under and iKihiiid them 
from hearing ; all the arrangements of the auditory are of the most 
temporary and iwx'idental character, and the external sounds very iin- 
|)erfectly shut off ; yet the |)erfection with which the earlier t»pem 
concerts and the later oratorios have been heard in that buildinir has 
surprised and delighted every one. If the same audiences were arranged 
in a building expressly constnicted for the purpose, there can l)e no 
doubt but that 20,0()(), or even more, could hear an oratorio in a very 
j)erfect manner. 

It is extremely desirable that furtlier progress should be made in 
this direc^tion, for not only have these great |)ei'formances of choral music 
l)ecome almost national among us, but they approach moix* nearly to the 
great semi-sacred theatrical representations of the Greeks than any- 
thing else that we know of in modern times. If any one at the present 
time wished to realise what the Greeks felt in witnessing a grand per- 
formance of one of the dramas of Sophocles or Euripides, he would 
I>erha])s come nearer the truth by hearing one of the magnificently 
executed oratorios of Handel or Hadyn than by any other pro(u»ss 


available in niodern times, and infinitely more nearly than by listening 
to an Enti:lish translation of a (ireek drama performed behind the gas- 
lamjis of a modern theatre. 

By far tbe most snect^fnl attem]>t In this dii*ection whicli has 
\wn made in modern times is the AU)ert Hall, South Kensington. 
Orijrinally suggested by ]Mr. Cole, the firet design was prepareil by 
Oajitain Fowke, but in con8e(iuence of his death was eventually carried 
out by General Seott. Internally it is an ellipse, measuring 219 ft. by 
IH."), and is calculatwl to contain al)out HmH\ jjersons, exclusive of tlie 
|>erfonners. For these an ()it?hestra is provideil, which, Inisides a very 
large organ, will contain Kmmi singera and 2tM) instrumentalists. The 
height internallv is 1:^() ft. 

For extent and for the pleasing animgement of the various parts of 
its interior, this hall is (piite unrivalled as an auditory by anything 
yet done in Eun)|K.^ ; and nothing can well cxchxmI the effecJt when it is 
tilled with ])eople, but txs a nuisic hall, with ivference to its aconstic 
j)roi)erties only, it cannot l)e stiid t<^ l)e so successful. The first element 
to l)e attended to in such a design as this, is that all those in the lH)xe6 
or in each tier of seats, should hear equally well. As it is, those in 
the seats nearest the on-hestm hear very nnich better than those in 
front, though t)bliged to turn a little on one side to see the singers. 
As originally designed by Caj>tain Fowki*, it was intended to have 
Wvn an elongated ellii«i\ with a major axis of '2Hi) ft. and a minor of 
111;*). Had this l)een carrieil out, it nuist have l>een an al)solute faihire, 
anil though (ieneral St^ott widened it relatively to its length, as far as 
he dared,'* it is now eviilcnt that, lM)th aivhitcrturallv and for the con- 
Vfiiience of the audience, it would have Ikk-'u k'tter if he had ado])te<l 
a purely circular form, which would have brouirlit those in fnmt 
nearly to an eijuality in point of hearin.L^ with ihos<? on the sidt^. As 
it is now, it probably would be l)etlcr for hearing if the on-hestni was 
placed on one of the Umger sides instead of the end ; but the R'al solu- 
tion of the dilliculty would have Ix-vn the adoption of a semiciivle with 
a flat side for ihe orchestra, or ]M.'rhaivs one slightly curvilinear, as 
sugirested by Saundeis in his tivatise on Theativs. In fact, it was a 
radical mistake to neirlwt the lessons tauirht us bv the (Jreeks in ihi^ 

' 'rii«.>isc (>articulars jire titkoii fruin a Boriptiona wtro obtniiiod fur ttie onctiou 

pajMT Ti'iuX by Geiienil St^»lt to the Iiisti- i>t tho Hall, it was IoujhI out tliat if tiiiit 

tute of RritiHii Architects on ilic 22iui were nltrred to u circle or any other form, 

Janimry 187*2. ihe siibseribori* nii^^ht Icpjilly rupndiato 

• It 18 ciiriouH sometin cs to lonru liow their contract, and eonseqiieiitly all dis- 

frequeiitly in this country other circum- cussion on that head was summarily put 

stauces than considenitions of fitnctss go. a Htop to. In fact, one of the l)e8t opp<.>r> 

vern the designs of buildingH. In this tunities of ertctmg a perfect music hall 

instuncQ Captain FowkcV very crude \^ as tlirown away bemuse Captain Fowke 

design of an ellipse having been attached <lid not happen to know the diftercnce 

t^ the original prospectus, on which sub- between a theatre anl an am phi theatre. 




rusi>ect. As the moat artiBtic people the world has yet known, and 
thoee having had the most eitengive experience in the conBtniction 
of similar edifices for ench pnqxiees, it ie tolcrablj certain they were 
tilt- ripht (^idcfi to follow in bucIi a 

cast ; and had it lieeri done at Kcna- 

iiifrtoii, I feel no donbt Imt that 10,(KKt 

jti-dple could have Been and licnrd lietter 

than thf wrk) the present Imildins 

afC(iinnio(iutu8 ; it wonld btsiidea havf 

l«.'i'n less »!si>L'neive and architecturally 

nnjiv pliaisinj:, and would also have 

hicni far iiKire conveniently the site on 

Hliii'h it is ])lHoed. Thu ex|ierieno(' 

jiaiiii'd in chc constrnction of the Allwrt 

lliill almost jnKtifies the ciindtision, that whenever the plan of a {rreat 

the.itii' is iiitcllijrenEly adapUil to the jinqxnH-, Hi,unii (itople may be 

aiT'omniodiiieil and hear iniisicjil jierfiir'mancefi of a ceiluin charactei' 

with the same ea"e and diwtinclni-ss as the •Jt»»i or Huim who only can 

find jiliuvs in the concert -rooms or iheutres hitherto erei'ti,'*!. 


[WiTHix the last tHOTity yeiu-s or so ihcatre-buildinK has made 
considerable advance in Enj^land ; not, however, as regards the leading 

I>l(«rui al Mnilc HtlL Fruu 


thcoa'tical questions of design whicli our author has bo carefully dis- 
cussed, but rather with reference to the practical safety of the public. 
It nmy, of course, l)e plainly said that there are two solemn facts not to be 
denied, namely : first, that it is only a (juestion of time when any theatre 
will Ixj destroyed by fire ; and secondly, that whenever, on this score or 
any other, a panic is (K^casioned amongst the audience, the danger to life 
and limb is an exceptionally serious risk. Acxiordingly, Parliament has 
been induced to meet these difficulties by legislation ; and the result is 
that the piib'ic authorities have had the i\^|)onsibility imix>sed upon 
them, not only of approving or disjipproving at discretion the plans of 
new theiitiX'S and similar etlifices, but of <'rdenng improvements to be 
made in existing buildings of the kind which apjwar to them to l)e 
defective in anvnigemuut. In ivsjK^ct of the danger fn)m fiiv, little if 
anything in the way of ivform has l»een as yet awomplished, 
unk«s we rely upon (vilaiu inventions for producing a curtain wliich 
shall prevent the flames, originating as they do on the stage, from 
spreading into the auditorium ; but how far it is ]X)ssible to apply fire- 
proofing to the stage ap])liances themselves is a (piestion that ought to 
Ije exhaustively consideivd. Vor the audience, however, a givat deal 
has l)een done, chiefly in the way of introducing ample corridors, 
eficaj)e staii*s ])r()|)eiiy planned, nioiv approjm'ate (hnu's, and other 
miscelhineous (u)ntrivaiK'es in the Sitme direction. It is much to 
be regretted that the pro|»rietoi's of theatres aiv so liable to under- 
estimate the dangei-s thus ileiilt with ; but, as usual, the financial 
question is the one that jHvsses most urirently. — Ki>.] 




The iiitrcKluction of railways, and the immense consequent development 
of civil engineerin«x, have given rise to a class of works which, if not 
strictly Architectural, are so closely allied to it, tliat it is impossible to 
escMiix* alluding to them in a work like this, though any attempt to 
descriixi them would Ixj to commence a new volume, and to open out 
quite a different field of inquiry from that which has been fallowed out 
in the i)revious jxiges of this work. 

Those who have mastered the definitions stated at length in the 
introduction to this volume will have no difficulty in jxirceiving that 
there is no real line of demarcation Ixitween the two branches of the 
building profession, though now they are kept distinct as Engineering 
and as Architecture ; but if the latter were only as truthful and as 
living an art as the other, the distinction would entirely disappear. 
The Engineer would only Ixi the Architect who occupied himself more 
especially with construction, and the more utihtarian class of works ; 
the Architect, projK^rly so called, would be the artLst who attended to 
the ornamental distribution of buildings, and their decomtion when 

At the present day the line of demarcation is oidy too easily recog- 
nised, because the engineer is a man who follows his branch of the 
profession on the same common-sense princi})les which guided buDders 
in all ])revions ages. The architect has su|x;radded those trammels of 
imitation which reduce his branch to an absurdity. The one great hojKi 
of a return to a l)ett<ir state of things is, that the engineers may become 
so influential as to foix;e the architects to ado])t their })rinciples, though 
at the ]iresent moment the tendency seems rather in the opjwsite 

As in consc'iuence of these distinctions, however, the engineers are 
not architects within the definition of the term employed in the pre- 
cediuiT pages of this volume, their works need not Ive enumerated here ; 
but in order to complete and to render intelligible what has been said 


alK)ve, it may be exjxHliont to select one or two examples wliieh will 
suffice to |K)iiit out the diflfereiices wliich exist, and the tendency of 
the two branches towards the unknown future. 

There are of course certain brandies of his pi-ofession in which the 
civil engineer does not come in conUict with the architect, such as the 
lavinj^ out and making of roads, the making of the jwrmanent way of 
railroads, the making of embankments or (if piers, and similar works ; 
but most of these are now l)eing handed over to the mechanical en- 
gineer, or to the surveyor and the contnictor. The civil engineer, in 
the sense in which we are now s]K*aking of him, is the builder of 
bridges and viaducts, the excavator of Icx'ks and docks, the constnictor 
of piei-s and lighthouses, and freciuently the builder of shij*. 

In all these cases the primary ol)je(^t of the engineer is use, not 
l)eauty ; but he carmot help ocirasionally l)ec()ming an architect, and 
sometimes with singular success, though too freijuently, when be 
ornaments, it is, as architects generally do, by boiTowing features 
from the Classical or ^Medijcval styles, or by some misUiken applica- 
tion of them, Ixit raying how little he has really studied the problem 
before him. 

In illustnition of these definitions, let us take the Dee Bridge at 
Chester. As an engineering work, nothing can Ihj nobler. It is the 
largest single span for a stone bridge in England, probably in the 
world ; built of the Ix'st materials, and in a situation where nothing 
interferes with its beauty or })ro])(>rii()ns. Its engineer, however, 
aspired to be architect ; and the conseiiuence is, that instead of giving 
value to an arcli of 2(h> ft. s])an, no one cun, by mere insjK'Ction, 
believe that it is more than half that widtii. In the fii'st place he 
introduced a common architrave moulding round the arch, such as is 
usually employed in Domestic ArchitcH'ture, and which it requires 
immense thought to exaggerate l)eyond the dimensions of a porte- 
cocherp, lie then placed in the s])andrils a ])anel :»n ft. by '»<», which 
in like manner we are accustomed to, of one-third or one-thirtieth 
these dimensions. He then, on his abutments, introduced two niches 
for statues, which it is innnediatelv assumed would l>e of life size : 
and bevond this, two land-arches without mouldiuL^s or accentuation 
of any sort, consequently looking so weak as to sjitisfy the min<l there 
was no difhiHilty in the construction. 

Had ^Ir. Ilamson U'en reallv an architect, he would have rusticated 
these land-arches with CvclojK'an massiveness. not only to continue 
the idea of the emliankment, l>ut also to give strength where it was 
ap])arently most needed : and would have avoided anvthinir in the 
abutments that savoured of life-size S(;ulptnrc or of temple building. 
A ^ledianal architect would have juen'ed the spandrils with oi^^nings, 
thereby giving both lightness and dimensions to this ]Kirt : or if that 
was not mechanically admissible, he would have divided it into three 



or four pan<;la, in accordance with tlie constnictioii. The essuntial 
pnrts in the cuiiatructioii of a bridge, however, are the voussoire of the 
arcli ; Biid to this the arciiltect's whole attention should first be 
turned. If there had been fifty well-defined arch-etonee, the bridge 
would liavc looked infinitely larger than it now appears. With one 
hundred it would have looked lar(,'er still ; bnt, if too numerous, there 
is a danger of the Btnicture losing that megalithic character which is 
almost as essential as actual dimensions for greatness of effect. The 
true architect is the man who can weigh thesi' various conditious one 
against ihe other, and strike a judicious balance between the dilTerent 
elements at his command. At Chester the builder has failed in this 
at every ])oint, and by the same procesa which mined St. Peter's. 
By exaggerating bis details, the bridge has licen dwarfed in exactly 
the same marnier as the basilica. 

If this is all that cau be done with bridges, it is far better that 
they should be left, like most of those recently built, to tell their own 
tale without any oniament whatever. A long series of tall arches is 

BO beautiful an object in itself that it is dlfiicnlt to injure it ; but 
occasionally a slight moulding at the imjiost, a Iwld accentuation of 
the iirch, and bold marking of the roadway render those beautiful 
which otherwise may only Ixj useful in apiwaraiiee. _ 

London Bridge is a very hap]>y instance of Ornamental Engineer- 
ing, bnt scai-cely sutticiently ornaiuented to Imjcoiuu arcbilecture : but 
in this respect it is Itetter than A\'aterloo Bridge, wheiv the Dciric 
columns on the piem, though certainly ornaiiiental, are so Iruippro- 
piiate as considerably to mar the effect. 

Xeilher of the of Telford or Stephenson across the Jlenai 
Strait niakea the smallest pretension to architectuml design. The 
former, however, though Ixsantiful from the gi'.ice of its fonn, would 
have lieen even more so had the hand of taste been allowed to modify 
some of its details, hut it \s ln<'ky in htning escaped the l^'yirtian 
pifipylons ill ciiBt iron wliicli weri' dt'signeil for the musjieiision bridge 
at Clifton. It must also lie eonfes.sed hu uould have k-en a Iwld iiiuu 
who ventured to suggest a dwumtion fin' mi uutriwl a form as the 
tubular girder, and in the present state of dcsigTi it is fortuiuiie the 
attem]it was not made. If not Iieautiful, it is gntiid, and ibcii' is no 
offence againat good taste. The same cau liardly be said of Uninel's 


two l>ridges at Chepstow and Saltash. In these the great bent tube 
is the princijml feature, but in both instances the construction is 
wholly internal and concealed. It would have cost nothing, and 
haitlly a<l(led a ton to the weight, to have put enough of it outside to 
explain the aiTangement, and so satisfied the mind. Wonderful as 
the latter is from its size and jx)sition, and fairy-like from the lightness 
of its form, it can only now l)e looked u}X)n iis a glorious ()p|)ortunity 
neglected for producing one of the most beautiful specimens of Iron 
Bridge Architecture in tlic world. "With the requisite amount of 
taste and thought this might have been done, adding little or nothing 
to the exixMise.^ 

Among smaller objects, the lighthouses, such as those of Eddystone, 
Hell Rock, and »Skerryvore, are the most satisfactory s}xx;imens of 
Engineering Architecture that have been produced. They have little 
or no ornament, it is true, but exquisite l)eauty of form with great 
]ierfecti()n of material and worknianshi}) : and if these do not entitle 
them to rank hi the higher chuss, we nuist cut out of our list 
Pyramids and Obelisks, Topes, Tombs, and all the simpler, though 
some of the gmndest, ol)jects that have hitherto been classed with 

Soifie of the entrances to the tunnels which are found on most rail- 
ways in England are as grand as any city gates, and grander than 
many triuni]>]ial arches, that are to Ixi found in Euro[>e. Hut this is 
only the case when they de])en(l for expression on their own mass and 
dimensions, relieved only by a few simple but appropriate mouldings 
— when they, in fact, are treated according to the true principles of 
aix'hitectural design. Too often, however, the engineer has aspired to 
l>e ail Aivhitect in the modern sense of the term, and there are Grecian, 
Egyptian, (iothic, and other tunnel-fronts on various lines which ai*e 
as absurd as anything done in towns. Tiiey probably, however, are 
the exce]iti()n. Hut a collection of these objects, dassificni as they 
Ix'lonired to tlie true or imitative stvles of Art, would l)e as correct an 
illustration as could well be found of the two principles of design 
prevalent in ancient and in modern times, and a fair test of their 
ivlative excellence. In applying such a test however, it must Ikj 
borne in min<i that those who have designed the true examples are 
men in a hurry, who probably in all their lives had never time to 
think of l)eauty in Art, while those who erect imitative buildings 
have generally s])ent their lives in intense study of ancient Art, and 
become thoroughly imbueil with its s]>irit, in the hojxi that they may 
Ik' able to rejn-oduce its beauties. 

^ A Itridire recetitly built over the Althouprh it mny want tlie height and 

Rhine, at May< iicc, on tfie same prin- the poetry of tliat at SaUash, it is not 

ciple, is very iinieh more FatiHfactory, only a better specimen of Ens^ineeri'ig, 

becau>e the construetion is aU sliown. but also of Engineering Architecture. 


The point, however, at which the engineer and the arclntect come 
most directly in contact is in the erection of stations and station 
bnildings. In every instance these onght to be handed over to the 
ai-chitect as soon as the engineer has arranged the mechanical details. 
Unfortunately, however, as Architecture is practised in this countr}', 
its professors, if so called in, would insist on the station being either 
Grecianised or Gothicised, or, at all events, carried out in some incon- 
gruous style ; and not one man in ten would have the courage to 
content himself with the ornamental an'angement of the i>aits and 
ornamental accentuation of the construction, these being all, or nearly 
all, that can be allowed in such cases, decoration being generally not 
only misapplied, but too costly for the purpose. 

On the other hand, when engineers attempt decoration they gene- 
rally fail. Nothing is so common as to see attenuated cast-iron 
Classical columns, with a fragment of an entablature on their heads, 
spaced ten or twenty diametei's apart, and supporting tnissed wrought- 
iron girdei-s 100 or 200 ft. in span, or, wliat is worse, |)ointed arches 
and cathedral details appropriated to a similar purix)8e. 

To recapitulate what has lx;en done in this direction would Ix* to 
write a volume on Civil Engineering ; but an example or two may 
suffice to placj the style in its pro|)er relation to Architecture in the 
strictiu* sense of the word, and thus prevent confusion of idetis regard- 
ing a proi>er definition of Art. 

The fii*st example selected is the King's Cross Station, one of the 
very l)est of those in the metropolis. It consLsts of two great halls each 
800 ft. long, 105 ft. wide, and 1)1 ft. high. Westminster Hall Ls 2:)^ ft. 
long, G8 ft. wide, and HG high ; that at Padua 2lo by S4 in width : so 
that neither of these, though the largest erected In.'fore this century, 
can compire in dimensions with the modern examples. Intrrnally, the 
Paduan exam|)le is not so arcliitectural as the station, and need not be 
coini)are(l : but that at Westminster, if ])laced in juxtaposition, 
explains at once the difference iK'tweeu Civil Engineering and Artistic 
Architecture. Hotji the halls deiKMid for their effect priiieipally on 
their roofs. In the station the corbehs are })lain blocks, the ribs of the 
sinij)lest form, an<l the quantity of timber exactly what was necessary 
t-o support the roof, and the ciistings and details are made wholly 
without reference to architectural effect. In the Hall the corbels are 
rich, the timber twi(;e the (lUantity reijuired, the arrangement of the 
parts designed as nuich for architectural as for mechaincal elVect, and 
every l>iirt carefully carved and ornament<.Ml. Between these two 
there are infinite degrees, but no line. Ha<l the architect of the 
station felt himself justified in si)ending a little more nioufv, he iniirht 
easily have added strength, or the ap])earance of it : he might have 
added ornament ; he might have modified his proportions, or intro- 
duced j>art8 that would have done so in appearance, till he made as 


Ifiiiuirul an «1iji.i:t as rlii.' Il.ill. iuul,i.-(iiisiiliTiii<r tla- imiiicrisuty hicraiscd 
ilhiii'iisiiiiis. a I'lti- ;.T.tinkT Ijiiiliii']^' : liui [l\is lie was nut pLTiiiitUil lo 
■111, ami i[ WDiili) liavu ri' ^ jiiJ^'tiiuiit aiul an iminenHC amount 

Tliv iiiiuriial favaili- nf tlic luiililiiii:;! of tliL-i statimi, whk-ti run^es 
aliiri;: tliu ivlioli' li'n^'lli of [In.' i)i']kii'(ii)v iilalfunn <iii t lie west side, is 
aniHliLT imiNHtiint fwiinii'. wliii-li, wiilmnL adiHtiunal exix^nse, nii<:iit 
liavu lK.rii niiulf lar inoii' silisfiicH.rv liy a slijriit e\]K'iiiiitni-(i of thou-rht 
(inly. U now consisisul' a ranui^iif similar wiinloHB iti ilif unper storey, 
iimi <if (IcKii-s anil HirnJuws uvareil similarly liciinv. An important 
1'niraji.r Iri.m ilic tii-s[-i.-lass liookiM.^r-nllicf -a li'ss iiniate one from the 
mt-imi — wiiulii liavf ^'ivi-ii mi-anitu: In urn- jMin. Tim i>ffivL% onsiht to 
iiavc Ikvii Lri-ali.'il in onv srylf, tin.' ivfivslmient and waitin'r nxmw in 
anciilicT; anil lln-si' im^rlit [o luivr lufii iliiTcivnt from tlm lamp-i-oom, 
lK.i-I..Ts"-r' ana m.nv miaual l.uihlinL's attarli,,.<l. 

Kxternally. l\v ik'siLrn lias ili,. nHTit nf U'in^- i-ntirdy trnt,liful. The 
twii -^n-.a si'mii'lrvular wimliiws icnniitate iiii|irri|iriatfly tlit' two sheds ; 
ihu .■I.H'k-mwiT is a i-.Tfirtly l.L'itimatc : tlic lio<.kini;-offi(.f on 
ihc nni' liaml. ati.i iln.- an-liway from tin; i.rrival-])!atfiirm on the other, 
UK fi|iially ;i|i]irci]iriaie. The oiii' irivat ili-fwi is. lliat the style ia ao 
siiiiiilc aii'i ;:ratiil that it on^dil to have lieuii exociited in trranice, while 
ii is I'iirrieil out in simjilc hrii'k. Kiunvin^' this, tin? spirtator cnmiot 
li<-l|i fiflinjr that tinisi' dii-i) olTsels round the arehwi are mis]>laced, 
fsjitrially as the Hjrhtness of the roof they terminate is seen through the 


>[ (be SUtlun iL Klug'a {iron. 

wii»IoH*8. One or two would ha^e l)ecii auijik : and if tlie money saved 
ill niatiTinl luid Iwcn employed in onmmtnt, a mure arcliitc-ctiiml facade 
uiii^lit have been attained, and one itifinittilj more appropriate to the 
liialt^rial in tvliicli it is Iniilb. 

If ive turn Itack for one moment to Schinkers design for the 
BaiiM'liule (_ Woodcut X(i, '2H>), ne sliall see at once how tiiis mifrht liave 
been done : atid it may also Ik; iLscful to note the differeiico between the 
two dwi^rns. At Iterlin. tlie di-taila are all good and all ap[iroi)riate to 
brick Arehit«;turu, hut tlie form of the huildiiif; is too simple 
and Revere for siieh a material. At London, the ontline is siiflipiently 
broken and varied for tirick. hut the details too maRsive and solid 
for anyihinp; hut stone or granite. Had Sciiinkel used as broken 
an outline as that of the station, or had the station Iieen ornamented 
with as elalKinite details as the Baiischulc, they woidd >ioth have 
been more ]»erfect buildings : but they both fail Iieeaiifie their aivliitccts 
forgot to think of the materials tliey were altoiit to emjiloy. 

If tlie ("Ireat Northern Station is a success, it Is l)ecause it is simply 
an unaffe(;ti.ii piece of engineering skill, and makes no pivtensions to be 
an obJH^t of archit«-inral art. The wime. however, cannot be s;iid of its 
moix! ambitions neighhiiur at St. I'ancras, on which so much ornament 
has lieen l)tStowe<l that it is elevated nmnistnkably into the higher 
class, though tlie mode in which this has k-en done renders it doubtful 
whether it is either so pleasing or bo successful us its plainer sister. As 


iiii enfriiiwriiii: lour Ai- i'm---i\ tin; iimf nf ils p'wit sliwl is ns yet 
nm'ivulliil. Ii U 7'm t'l. Ikult liy :!tn ft. i-lfiir simii. wiclioiit an 
upjiLtiviit lie ijf miy suii. Tlii.' tiis. in lui-i. •vk tlio lieiiiiis iluil form 

thf rimf <il' the Viiuits IkIiuv iirnl siij.]»in tlir Hour i if iln.- Mittiiiti. Add 
[II [lii-si- <liiiK'ii>L<>Tis. \\\M ii i^ 1<"> It. liiL'li. MvX ii Ui'oiiit'S i-uiussal iu 
I'Vi'iy [>■>]•■'■[. \\\\\ ivii-i ii iviinli ivliil.' Ill I'ji.'iimiiiT nil the fiiiriiRvriii^ 

■ iiliii'iiiiLfs, iiiiil L'li 111 siiili iiii L-.\j"(iM- ti> iiiiuLti iliis Rsiilt ;- Hud it 
Urn 'iivi.l,.,! niMu'f i.f t«<. .■..iLiiiins into [«.. liiilk fitcli li'ii ix> • ^i.iii.l'liiivr U.-ii .■,|iiiilly< ivuiiM luiiv (■.h^t k-*s. iirid 
|.,(.kv.n«itli'.'rv iiii.i «i.l-T iJtiil !iiL'hiiili;iiitlR-iir.'Sfm (.111-. As it is, 

it kills (.Vi-rviliit);; ; ik' nirrui^'is iinil i.iiL'irii-s Incik likv tuy iniiii:;. and 
liiiiii:iii li-iiiL's liki- .nils. TIriv is no jin.iMiriiiiii lnnvii'ii tin.- s1k-<1 and 
iTs lis,.-. ;hiiI iivntliiu- lu.,k-.<.nt ..f ami iiiosL of all t\w Cothic anil l.'iirknork.«v,1 ti-ni tIi.' .i.iinvsii.- i.ivliit.ftnre yf 
ilii' -Mi.Ml.' Al'^s. i\iLi. ii H-iiii its invtiy linKmss.> thnists itself k-twwn 

■ Ik- L'ii.Mii[i<' ii'iin rjiont' ili<' mut'. Ail<l to a II this ilit.' riiriotts (-IniusintSB 
of ill.; M-.-liii'Val ntnUnii'j of ilii' Miuf of tlif li.H.kinjr-iilHw. in darinc 
ronirisi uiili III! Lh<- ii'lini-im ii(s of nitntivnili c-i-tiitiry (-oust i-iirt tun iii 
lit.: in;iL'l'<iiii-iii'_' iiini Villi li:ivv iin- tno sysii-nw in siivli viok-nt 
1,-iiiili-iist iliaL it i^ ijiiitr .■viili'iii iliai this is not ilif ilinrtioti on which 
it is iMwsiliiu ill) iiiiiaL'aniaiioii imii fwr l>c dTci'ifil. Wu nmy ivu'rct the 

' TL- .-.mri.! th,Ns-].t ■■{ tho Crvftal VaLr.' at m 120 feci wide by 
li.O IVa in liiiiilit 



plaiiinf!<B of the Great Xorthem Station, but it is )>cttcr it sLonld 
reniuiii its it is, rather than that it ehould Iw disfigured witli incoiifrruoiiB 
iniM]ia;vnliHm like the Btutiou of the ISIidland Knilway, which Btaiids 
next to it. 

Another illustration how such a fa9.ide might have been omaraented 
is seen from the esumple on the precedin<; pigo, taken from the station 
of the Str<isbur^ Ilaihvay at Puris. Pntitic klly the design of tliia facade 
is the Siune as that of the Great Northern Station, jnst descrilied (except 
that tliei-u is only one shed in the French example) ; but the latter, from 
its higher degive of oriiamentiition and its more artistic arrangement, 
liecomes really an object of Architectural Art, and one iierfectly appro- 
priate to the purpose without too great an amount of imitative features 
borrowed from any iwrticnlar style. 

TIh' Sc:ition at Xewc;istle, though very grand, and possessing some 
cxtvllcm |K)inis of design, verges close on the faults so common in the 
Renal ssii nee styles. It is neitiier (|nite tnuhfid nor ijuite ap|)ro])riate. 
The giViit )Kirti(^o might as well lie the^e to a jinliice or a theatre 
as to II raiiwiiy station, and the oriiiimeiitiition has too much the 
cluinieler of l)eing put there for ornamc it's siike aioiie, without reference 
eitlier to ronstruction or to uny of the real exigencies of the building ; 
and, ivli.ll is woi-se, In onier to give light to the rooms Itelow, its roof 
mnsi- l-e either wholly or pirtially of glass, corLstr!|uenlly its monumental 
fonns al once Iwoiin; alisuiii. Tlicy are such a* would almost suffice 
for a \iiidt -a few ii-on jiosts would Ii;ive done as well for all tliey have 
to snpjHin. 

Wiilinut attempting to as-;ii:n the u-lauve merit of each of tiiese 
exampli's. ihev may 'i' taken as repii.'seniimr the thnr I'lasses into whii-h 
this style divi(U-» itself ; llie Great Northern titaiion reiircscntin.g 

VDL. II. 2 F 


EnjrinetTiiig Architecture, the Straslmrg Station Artists' Architecture^ 
aud the station at Newcastle Architects' Architetiture. 

From the two first alone can anything that is good or satisfactory 
ever l>e e.\|x?ctefl : and, if ])ersevered in, they offer pnx'isely the same 
ciiance of developing a new style as was afforded to the ecclesiastical 
builders of the Middle Ages : and if the engineers only appreciate 
the value of the ])rincii)les on whic^h they are ]Xirhap8 unconsciously 
acting, they ought to insist on the Siune truth j)ervading all the 
buildings in their charge. If they do, they will render a service to 
the sister profession the benefit of which will ha incalculable. 

Unfoilunatelv this is not the view of the matter that has hitherto 
lx*en taken, not only in this country, but more esjxx'ially on the 
Continent, as we meet with Bvziintine stations and (xothic stations of 
every degree and variety, but also Pomi)eian and Classic — even pure 
(Jrecian-Doric stations — and every fonn of inappropriate blun<lering, 
and all to sjive a little tiiought and troul)le on the part of the 
designei's. lUit it mav safciv Ix? asserted that these are all — 
without a single ext-cption — good or siitisfadory in the exact pro- 
])ortion in which it is difficult to name the style in which they are 

If railwav enirineers and railwav architects, in this countrv at least, 
have not done all that might be exixMjted of them to pHnluce ]»eauty as 
well as convenience in their works, there is this, at least, to l)e said in 
their excuse — that all our railwavs are in'ivate commercial undertakiuire 
entered up)n with a view to profit. If, therefore, the engineer can 
])rovide the necess<iry accommodation for 1o,()(mi/., jio is hardly justified 
in s])ending 11,(mio/. Tliough it is (piite true that a certain amount of 
s])acioiisness and ditrnitv does attract custom to a niilwav, it is onlv to a 
certain extent ; and a sulH)rdinate is not justified in going beyond that 
without siK.'cial sanction. 

A more fatal case hitherto has U'en the transition state in which 
evervthinir is. Thouirh railwavs are little more than thirtv veal's old, 
there is hardiv an important station in this countrv that has not l)een 
either ])ulled down and re-erected in some other locality, or enlarged and 
altered so tluu nothinir of the ori«rinal desi'ni remains : and anv station 
that is twentv vears old, either is, or ouirht to Ik.*, ivbuilt inmiediatelv. 
Even bridges have to be widened or altered, and the next few years may 
introduce such chanires that all that men are doimr now mav have t^) l)e 
re-done. While tliis is the case, it is Avasteful to spend much money on 
l)ermanent erections : and much expenditure of time or thought is 
hardly to be expected from an engineer or his assistant on what they 
feel convinced mav be swe])t awav before thev themselves have done 
with it. 

.\ll that can be asked from the railwav authorities under these 
circumstances is cleirant appropriateness, and all will liave even- reason 


to be thankful if that stives us from Mediaeval stations, Doric ]X)rticoe8, 
Egyptian viaducts, and other al)8urditie8 of the sort, of which too 
many have already been perpetrated in this country. It will be 
well for us if engineers are confined for the future to this, and to this 
only, and prevented from indulging in those eccentricities which have 
hitherto marred so many noble works. It is far iKjtter that we 
should l)e content with plain, honest, solid, but useful erections, than 
that our buildings should 1x3 adorned on the mistaken principles which 
have hitherto Ixjen supposed to constitute the art of Architecturc. 

Architectural Engineering. 

[This heading is meant to suggest a very practical <juestion, namely, 
how far the artistic design of building (Archit^x'ture) ought to Ik.' applied 
to those kinds of building which it is found convenient to plaw in the 
hands of the civil engineer rather than the ai'chiti'ct. Are' there two 
kinds of building, one that ought to l)e made gniceful and another that 
ought not ? Is there any]M)Ssil)le reavson why a line should Ik.* drawn, on 
one side of which the Aivliitect by name shall l)e re<|uii'ed to devote 
himself earnestly to the j)roduction of pleasiintness, while on the other 
side the Engineer l>y name shall Ix? allowed to pixwluce unpleawnitness 
and say he c^in't help it ? AVliy can't he help it ? Tie s|>ends money 
freely enough, nnich moi"e fively than the aix^hitect. If we w«jre dealing 
with some sort of chxl-hopiKir, or navigator, and he Siiid he couldn't lielj) 
it, the reason would Ikj plain. I^ut this is a highly educated jX'i-son, 
a gentleman, often of marked refinement ; and somelMxly ought to tell 
him that he nuist help it ; or, if he cannot l)e jK-'iyonally troubled with 
such triviality, why should he not call some one to his aid ? Broadly 
S|)eaking, there is not a single feature in the scientific design of a bridge, 
a railwav-station, a river-embankment, or whatever else it mav \k\ over 
which the fine-art of building need fail to throw the graces of i>roportion 
and the elei^ances of eml)ellishment. In Francre and Oermanv the 
engineer can do this for himself, or jirotmre the ])ro|)er doing of it, as 
mere matter of course ; why not in England ? — Ed.] 

FEUUo-ViTUKors Art. 

A new style of Architecture was inaugurated together with the firet 
Exhibition of JHAl, wiiidi has had already a considerable effect on a 
certain class of designs, and promises to have a still greater infiueiice in 

There is, perha])8, no incident in the history of An-hitectui'e so 
frlicitous as Sir Joseph Paxton's suggestion of a magnificnl conservatory 
to contain that givat collection. At a time when men weiv jaizzling 

2 E 2 


Z* * <i A.1- 

• :. ■_ .1 


. '•'^ ■- ' _•: " i"!" * ?^: 

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• . » I if I • y- 

■ • • t^ _ . ■ 

■ v."..-'.l.i hiiw." 
; •i.r«iia<t.- of 

;:••'. Ml 'Iv Ix- l»v 


the introduction of a third material. Stone is not quite suitable for this 
purpose ; it is too solid and too uniform. So the designers of the Paris 
Palais d'Industrie seem to have thought ; for, instead of trying to 
amalgamate the two elements at their command, they were content to 
hide their crj^stal palace in an envelope of mtisonry, which would have 
served equally well for a picture-gallery, a concxjrt-room, or even for a 
palace. Nowherc is the internal arrangement of the building expressed 
or even suggested on the outside ; and the consecjuence is, that, however 
beautiful either of the parts may be separately, the design is a failure as 
a whole. ^ 

Though stone therefore may be inappropriate, brick and terra-cotta 
may be employed with iron and glass with the very l)est effect. When 
so used the brickwork must l>e of the veiy best (quality, so as to be 
pleasing in itself. Coloured bricks should Ixj employed everywhere to 
give relief and lightness, and the mouldings must be designed es])ecially 
for the places to which they are applied. 

If at Sydenham the whole of the lower storey in the garden front 
up to the floor-line had been of brickwork, it would have added very 
considerably to its monumental character. It would also have improved 
the design immensely if the angles of all the transepts had been brick- 
work up to their whole height, and the screen-walls to a certain extent. 
This would no doubt have added somewhat to the expense, but not to 
a greater extent than would have been saved in repairs ; and where the 
roof is of glass, there is no inconvenience in blocking out a certain 
])oition of the lateral light. The refil difficulty in adopting such a mode 
of treatment is the inmiense amount of thought it would re<juii'e to work 
out the details, and the skill and judgment necessar}' to do it well. If 
well done it would almost l)e equivalent to the invention of a new style, 
and for certain pm'poses moi-e beautiful than anything that has gone 

'I'hese princi])les of design were to a very gix'at extent followed up 
in the Alexandra Park Pahwe, so i*ecently destroyed by Are. The ])ro- 
portions of brick, iron, and glass there use<l were, as nearly as we can 
now see, those which ought to l>e used in such structures, and each 
element was used with those constructive forms most ap])ro]>riate to its 
s[)ecial (pialities, and with the hap])iest elfecL Like the sister palace at 
Sydenham, its design was to a certain extent hainix*red by the purchase 

' At I'jirJH thoy soem to Imvo fouml tasto had been (UHpliye*! in tliis building 

this out iilnady, at least if wf may jiiclire as in usual in Farisian dosijrns, it would 

from tlio design of a new Exhibition have been an immense ste|» in tin* right 

building which it was p-^o|K)Sfd to erect direction, and have gone far to bring tiio 

at Antruil. In this design stone is to Ixi fi.-rro- vitreous style witlnn the domain of 

used evcrywhor*' for accentuation, but Arcliitecture Tiio building, howev(T, 

never f<»r conc«alm«'nt. Brick wouIjI pro- never was completed, an<l the part erected 

hably have In en JM7tter: but if the same is now removed. 


of the 1862 Exhibition building, which was very far from being a 
successful design in any respect, but the materials of which having 
to be used up in the new building to some extent, marred its beauty. 
Notwithstanding this, however, it was the most successful thing of 
its class yet carried out, and with a few alterations in detail, 
which it is ho[)ed will be attended to when it is rebuilt, it may 
become really a vary Injautiful and appropriate building for exliibitiou 

Such a style would not, of coui'se, Ik* applicable everywhere : but 
there are so many buildings of this class now wanted for exliibitions, 
for railway stations, for places of asseniljly, and for floricultnnil pur- 
poses, that it is of great ini])ortance the subjwt should l)e studied 
caiX'fully, as it is one of the few branches of the art on which a fiUure of 
progress seems to Ix? dawning. If such a development were to take 
plactt in even one of the most insigiiiticiint branches of the art, men 
would not long remain content to si)end their money on even the 
coiTectest Classic columns or (Jotliic aivhes : once they jx'ix'eived that 
these were not onlv absolutelv useless, but actuallv hurtful, it mi<rht even 
come to l)e believeil that the men of the nineteenth century practically 
knew as much of scientific construction, and were as refineil in their 
artistic tastes, as our ignonmt and hard-fisted forefathers in the thir- 
teenth. When this is once done the battle is gained, and Architecture 
again bi.i-omes a truthful ait, and rccovci-s the ])lace from which she has 
Xkvw b.inislu'd for centuries. 

^Icanwhile it is curious to observe with what sjx^ed we arc advancing 
in constructive skill. A coni<'al dome, for instance, has been erected 
at Vienna, from the designs of ^Ir. Scott Russell, as the central ix)int 
of the Exhibition building, wlrch is M') ft. in clear span internally, 
and u]>wards of '2(H) ft. in heiirht, without any tie or constnictive 
exiK'dient Ixing shown. As originally designed, it was intended to 
have l)een twice that diameter : and certainly, up to KK'lO ft. clear span, 
tlii^i mode of construction ])resi.'nts no ditliculty. Besides, it is the 
cheajn'st mode of jKTmanent rooting yet known, costing somewhat 
less than 'J^L ]m.t cubic foot of contained S])}ice. It would in this 
manner be easy to put a roof over the (ireat Pyramid, or St. Peter's in 
Rome, without touching either, at an exjjense which could CJisily be 
mastered. In fact, there seems no ])ractical limit to the size that may 
thus be rea(Jied, but it is (piite another (jUestion whether such dimen- 
sions ;jre desirable. For the enL*"ineer tliev certainlv arc, but is there 
anv iireiiitect who can ornament them, or render their forms ornamental ? 
It may l>e done hereafter, but at present no one j>robably can say how 
he would rescue these gigantic forms from the hands of the engineer 
and render them true objects of architectimd art, and till this is done 
we may tolerate them for their usefulness, though we cannot certainly 
admire them for their beiiutv. 


Military Engineering. 

Military Engineering is another branch of the art which has even 
moi-e rarely been brought in modern times within the domain of the 
architect than the Civil branch has been, and has not some of its excuses ; 
for all works of fortification are imDerial works, paid for by the nation^ 
and constructed without reference to profit ; they might therefore be 
made ornamental, when ornament can be applied. The excuse is, of 
course, that there is no iconoclast like a cannon-l)all, and it is absurd to 
ornament what is sure to be destroyed. This is, however, hardly a fair 
view of the case : of one hundred bastions that are built, not more than 
one on an average is ever fired at, and it is a pity that the remaining 
ninety-nine should disfigure the earth during the whole period of their 
existence. The masses are so great and the forms so generally pleasing, 
that a very slight additional expense and small amount of thought 
would render that l)eautiful which is now commonplace, and this without 
interfering in the smallest possible degree with its defensive qualities. 
The truth of the matter is that the civilian or the architect is never 
consulted in these matters. A fortification is always a secret and a 
myster}' till it is built ; and the officer employed has probably never 
thought of Architecture as an art, and is too much occupied by the 
defensive elements of his design to think of anything else ; while 
military boards are not — it must be admitted — likely to encourage their 
subordinates in carrying out their artistic aspirations. 

It is hardly necessary to recall here the extreme beauty attained 
by Military Engineering in the Middle Ages. The grandeur of the 
donjon keeps — the variety and picturesqneness of the outer walls, with 
their flanking machicolated towers — ^the town wall with the gates — 
every part of the system was as admirable and as perfect as the Eccle- 
siastical styles of the day. With the invention of gunpowder these 
things were changed. The masonry came to be pared down to a 
moderate height, and was buried in a ditch instead of being perched on 
a crag. It was crowned with an earthem parapet instead of a cornice- 
like battlement. The gates alone were left, for some time at least, in 
the hands of the architects, and still remain the only parts of a fortified 
enciente to which decoration is systematically employed. 

If San Michele was not the actual inventor of the pentagonal 
bastion, he was certainly the first man that reduced the modem systems 
to a practical shape ; and though the forms he employed have been 
slightly modified and enlarged since his day, nothing haa been added to 
what he invented till the bastion system itself was superseded by the 
modern polvgonal fortification. 


His greatest work was the furtifii^tioii of Verona ; and the ^tea 
he erected there have l>een the models followed with more or less 
exactness in ever)' sultse^iuent fortification in Europe. One of these, 
now called the Porta Stupa from its bein<: closed, lias \)txn (juoted as 
his greatest work of this class ; hut it certainly is not so lieautiful as 
that of the Castello del Lido (Woodcut No. 327), which for a sin);le 
archway is one of the happiest dcsifma of its class yet executed. In 
almost all cases the elements of these desi<fim arc the same — lioidly 
. raeticat«d Doric colunnis. with rusticated arches between, coiiil>ined in 
various proportious. I'lie French, who have mem: taste in these- mutlera 
than other nations, have latterly omitted the pillars and introduced 
simple nisticated arches : ele^iit, it iiuist lie confessed, and appropriate, 
but ^-nenilly so plain that tlHiy must lie i-onsiderv-d as lie1oii<!in;! to 
Engineering rathei' than to Aivhitectural Aii. 

Duriiij: the (seventeeuih and fifiliuvutli ivnturius some hundreds 
of these firei't '''tj' ixutals wciv eii-ctcil in \iiriiius jvirts of Europe- 
all of frniud dimensions— all moiv or Iws onuiment..>d : Init it is sad 
to thhik theiv is iKit one of them whose ilcsiini the mind dwdls on 
wiih pIcHsiu-e, or wliieh any one would u> mv illustrated in a 
work like tills. 

If, therefore, we must aliaiidon the (Hiitiils. ilierv is still an infinite 
numlierof works a I tout an extensive fortress, all of which an- captthle 
<rf artistic treatment. There are losvers in the frorwes : thcR' are case- 
mutes and defensive haiTucks. huildintrs of the most imposinjr dimen- 
sions and moat massive constnictiou, whicli it would require very 
little to render arch itectu rally beiiutiful : and there are numherlefls 
minor ohjecls which need not be left in ilieir present state of otilitarian 


ilffi HUM ! 1 1 1 i 1 1 1 1 irr 

lEUJ M:M IJ "'f*^ 

of tlM Onii>i7 M SludllD, 

Oiu- exiimiile must suffic-t; : at New Guorfiitflk or Modlin there is 
11 ^Tiiiiitry sitimtwl on a point wliea' tliu Hhr and Vistula meet. 
St^iiidiri;: in tlic cL-ntn; of so imporUint a fuitn^s. It was iiecesenry to 
fortify it. Tliis luis Im.i'ii tlooe by iiitrodiiciii<; it set of f;tiit-caaemates 
oil tlic \o\wv floor, u ])iv)JLrtiiitr fialliTV jiIkivu, and riinderinp tlie 
wholf liiiml)-pii>of. TliL' stylt: uliosen Is elu^iml ; and without owe 

iliitiiiilllliilt IlKl 


III tbo whote ot Iht Fk^vli of Un l}i 

eiriirle feature that oun be (silled inapiiropriate, an edifice of very 
poTisidfiiililf iirrhitwtttnil merit has been ])rodttee(i out of the ^.Tanary 
of a fonn-ss, and there i« no building in the world tlmt mijiht not be 
made i-i|UiUly so if the aime amount of care and l)aiii3 were bestowed 
HIKlll it.' 

In (lernmny something: has been done of late years to remedy this 
Btate of tbingB, especially by the late Kitif; of Bavaria at Iiifjoldstadt 

' The buililiiig IB S50 ftet long by 100 f«'t high in the centre. 


and elsewhere in his dominions. Some of the Pnissian designs, too, 
show a tendency to consider how a certain amount of architectural 
design can be superinduced on the utilitarian forms of these buildings, 
and sometimes with very considerable success. As before mentioned, 
the Arsenal at Vienna is one of the most successful of Austrian designs, 
but, being neither fortified nor in a fortress, it belongs more to the 
province of the civil than of the military branch. What might be 
done in this branch is obvious enough ; but, till some greater progress 
has been made than . has hitherto been effected, it is evident that 
military construction has as yet no place in a work devoted to the 
study of Arcliitecture considered as one of the Fine Arts. 



On reviewing the history of Architecture during the three or four 
centuries to which the contents of this treatise extend, the retrospect, 
it must be confessed, is sufficiently melancholy and discouraging. 
For the first time in history the most civilised nations of the world 
have agreed to forsake the only path that could lead to progress or 
perfection in the ** Master Art," and been wandering after shadows 
that constantly elude their grasp. When we consider the extent to 
which building operations have been carried during that period, 
the amount of wealth lavished on architectural decoration, and the 
amount of skill and knowledge available for its dii-ection, it is very 
sad to think that all should have been compamtively wasted in 
consecjuence of the system on which these werc employed. Few will 
dispute the assertion, that there is no Renaissance example equal as 
a work of Art to any Oothic or Siiracenic building, or that ever 
att^iined to the pictures |ue appropriateness of these styles. Nor has 
any modern design ever reached the intellectual elegance of the Greek 
or Roman, or the sublimity of the Egyj)tian ; and all this simply 
because of the mistaken idea that success could Ikj Jichieved without 
thought, and that the pist could be reproduced in the present. 

It is of little use, however, now lamenting over opportunities 
that have been lost and cannot be re'CiiUed : it is more important to 
try and find out what are the prospects of improvement now, or 
rather, before proceeding to this, to ask wliat is to be tlie style of 
the future ? 

To give a distinct and c^itegorical answer to such a (jnestion is 
of course impossible, as it would Ije e<iuivalent to attem])ting to 
foresee what has not been invented, and to descrilnj what does not 
vet exist. It would have l)een as reasonable to have asked AVatt to 
descrilxi the engines of the ' Devastation,' or Stephenson to sketch the 
appearance of tiie Great Westeni express train at the time when he 
started the * Ex[)eriment ' on the Stockton and Darlington line. If 
the style is to be a tnie style, it will take many years to elaborate, 
and many minds must be employed in the task ; but if men once 
settle into the true path, success must follow, and the new style 


must iHi good and beautiful, perhaps more so than any that have 
preceded it. lu ilie meanwhile, however, it is easy to reply, nega- 
tively, that it certainly will not be Gothic — if for no other reason, 
at least for this : that the MediaBval is a complete and perfect style, 
and progress in it is consequently impossible without a recurrence 
of the circumstances in which it was created. It was the result of 
centuries of continuous progressive changes growing out of the wants 
of the times, and supplied by the restless mental acti\'ity of thou- 
sands of minds applied through long ages to meet these exigencies. 
We are separated by the gulf of centuries from these times : we 
can neither go back to nor recall them : we can never settle again 
into the same gi'oove, and, while this is so, progress in that direction 
is imiK)88ible. If we could forget the invention of gunpowder, and 
induce nations to revert to bows and arrows and plat^-amiour, — if 
we could ignore the printing-press and all its thousand influences, or 
persuade ourselves to believe that the steam-engine is still only the 
dream of some cnick-brained mecjhanic, — then indeed we might restore 
the Middle Ages, and (Jothic Architecture might l)ecome again a 
living fonn in such a state of things ; but, till all this and more is 
done, it nnist Remain only a fragment of the i)a8t, utterly strange and 
uncjongenial to our habits and our feelings — an amusement to the 
learned, but taking no root among the masses nor ever being an 
-essential pirt of our civilisation. On the other hand, the more we 
study the Archita'ture of the pist or Inxiome familiar with its details, 
the more enamoui-ed nuist we Ihj with so honest and so earnest an 
expression of human wants and feelings, and the more incapable are 
we of eman(M])iiting ourselves from its pirticular influence. This we 
already feel ; and every day we are becoming more and more correct 
as copyists, and more and more intolerant of any deviation from the 
exact tyj)OS of the Middle Ages. 

The same is true of the pure Chissical styles, from which we 
are se])arated by even a longer interval of time, and also by a 
geographical barrier which renders them unsuitable for our climate. 
But it is not (juite correct to siiy that our sympithies are not 
iHjually engaged by them. The educated chisses, at least, know 
more and feel more for the age of Ictinus than for that of William 
•of Suns, and are more capable of appreciating that of Vitruvius than 
that of Wickham or of Waynflete. But Ix? this as it may, the 
Classical is also a ]x;rfect style, and progress in it is unattainable 
unless we can put ourselves in the position of the Greeks or Romans 
when they were elaborating it : and without progi'ess it is impossible 
to adapt any ait really to our use or purposes. 

It need hardly Ik? added that all this is even more tnie as regards 
the Saracenic, the Indian, the Chint^e, or Mexican ; but there is yet 
one other style within whose limits progress still seems possible. 


The Renaissance Italian is by no means worked out or perfected, and» 
from the causes pointed out in the preceding pages, has hardly yet 
had even a fair trial of its merits. 

Originally it was a compromise bbt^veen the Gothic and the 
Classic styles, borrowing the forms from the one, the details from 
the other ; and it has in its progress oscillated backwards and for- 
wards, from almost pure Medieevalism on the one hand to pure 
Paganism on the other. It has also this immense advantage : in its 
devious course it has been so far adapted to the wants and exigencies 
of modem times, that it is perfectly suited to all our purposes and is 
so familiar to us that we may base on it any improvement we may 
invent without its seeming strange and out of place. It has algo 
this immense advantage, which the Gothic never can possess, that 
it requires and demands that the highest class of Art in painting and 
sculpiure should be associated with it, instead of the crude l)arl>ariBm 
of the Middle Ages. 

Within the limits of such a style as this progress seems possible ; 
and if it is, the problem is of easy solution. It does not recjuii^* a 
man or set of men, as some have supposed, to invent a new style ; 
the great want now is self-control and self-negation. AVhat we 
re(juire is that architects shall have the moral courage to refrain 
from borrowing, and be content to think, to work, and to improve 
hit by bit what they have got. If some artistic Chancellor of the 
Exchequer would only lay a heavy tax on every Classic column 
erected after this date, and assess ecjually every mullioned window or 
evoiy Gothic })innacle employed in future buildings, we should soon 
an'ive at a better state of things. 

The demand, however, must arise with the public, and cannot 
come from the profession. We have no right to ask that an architect 
shall starve l)ecau8e he refuses to erect Gothic churehes, Grecian 
temples, or Chinese summer-houses, feeling that he can do better. 
The public must say to those it employs. You shall arrange your 
design according to the dictates of connnon sense, you shall elalwrate 
it by thought, and you shall apply oniament with taste to what you 
liave thus worked out ; but beyond these three postulates you shall 
not go. When this is done we shall again know what the art means. 
If we ask for anything else, we may get something which may be very 
beautiful, but it will not be Architecture. 

The real question lies somewhat deeper. Are we prepared to 
give up the idea that we are, or may Ikj, intellectual Greeks or 
world-conquering Romans ? arc* we rc^ady to abandon the feeling 
that we are powerful Mediaeval priests or chivalrous knights-errant ? 
are we, in fact, prepared to forego all our di-eams of the past, and be 
content to acknowledge ourselves as only human beings living in the 
latter half of the nineteenth century, looking forward to and hoping 


in the future ? We have done so in Literature ; we are doing this in 
Painting ; Sculpture seems tending towards the same course, and why 
not Architecture ? More than this, the principles of common sense 
have been adopted by the engineers, who form one-half of the building 
profession. They are too young as a body, and have as yet had too 
little time to think, to know exactly what course they intend in 
future to pursue ; but when once they have leisure and organisation 
it remains to be seen whether they will have sufficient influence to 
foixje the architects to adopt their principles, or whether the vanity 
of imitating the older and more artistic branch of their profession 
may not induce them to rest content with their lazy but aristocratic 
system of copying. Fine Art is a hai*d task-mistress, and to obtain 
her rewai"ds men must work, and think, and exerc*ise infinite self- 
control. False Art is an easy, smiling dame, whose favours are 
readily dispensed, but worthless when obtained. There is, in fact, 
no difficulty in finding the path by which perfection may be attained ; 
the one question is, Have we the courage to choose it, and, having 
chosen, have we the |)er8everance necessary to reach the goal ? 

Although x\rc'liitecture never was in so false a position in this 
country since the Refonnation as it is at this moment, or practised 
on such entirely mistaken principles, still there are signs that 
encounige a hope that better days are dawning and may again 
brighten into sunshine. At no period during the last three centuries 
have the public taken the same interest in Architectural Art or felt 
so much desire to enjoy its l)eauties. As a body the Architects of 
this country have never l)een so numerous, so well instnicted, or so 
eaniest in the exercise of their vocation as at present, while recent 
experience is not likely to encourage the employment of amateurs 
who fancy they can learn all the secrc^ts of the art without work, 
and who are ready to design anything without bestowing upon it 
even the most moderate modicum of thought. 

What is wanted to ensure progress towards perfection is, first, 
that we shall have a public with feeling enough for the art to 
desire it, and with knowledge sufficient to judge of what is good 
and beautiful ; a body of architects so intelligent as to be able to 
grasp the conditions of the problem, and with taste enough to design 
the requisite forms of expression ; a class of builders with skill to 
arrange and energy to carry out what has been so designed ; and, 
more perhaps than any of these, a class of art workmen so instructed 
and so expeit that they shall be able to understand the work they 
have in hand, and so skilled as to be able to execute it thoughtfully 
and well. Many of these elements we already possess, and are pro- 
gressing towards the attainment of the rest. But even all these 
will be of no avail unless every class is thoroughly imbued with 
a conviction that Architecture is neither more nor less than a true 


and progressive development of a useful art into a fine art, but 
which can never throw off its connection with its parent, nor can 
ever be practised .on any other piinciples than those wliich alone 
have led to the elaboration of other useful arts into their aesthetic 

In addition to this, it is indispensable that the public mind 
should be thoroughly disabused of the idea that Archaeology is 
Architecture, or has, in fact, any direct connection with it. It 
never was so when Art was a living thing, and there is no logical 
reason why it should be so now. Once this error is exploded, and 
we itially set in earnest to elaborate Building with truth into 
Arcliitecture, there seems no reason why we should not surpass all 
that lias l)een done up to this time. AVe have more wealth, more 
mechanical skill, more refinement than any nation, except perhaps the 
Greeks, and taste (even if not innate) may result from the immense 
extent of our knowledge. 




So much space has been occupied in the preceding pages by criticism on 
the Domical class of churches invented by the Italians, that it may be 
worth while, and certainly will add to the clearness and intelligibility 
of what has been said, to try if by a couple of diagrams I can explain 
more clearly the conclusions I have arrived at on this subject. I do 
this the more willingly because, if the principles which are enun- 
ciated in the preceding pages are correct, Architecture is a progressive 
art, in the practice of which — as in scientific research — any one may 
start forward from all that has been acquired up to his day ; and, 
basing his judgments on all previous knowledge, he ought to l)e able 
to see how forward progress may be made, and former faults avoided 
if called upon to design similar buildings. In the case of any one l)eing 
called upon to criticise a poem, or any work of phonetic ait, the case 
is widely different. It is by no means necessary that a man should be 
a poet, or to prove that he could do l)etter, l)efore expressing an o]nnion 
regarding any fKXJtical work. An amateur may be an excjuisite judge 
of paintings who never handled a brush ; and it does not recjuire that 
a man should ever even have attempted to model, in order that he may 
be able to appreciate the merits or point out the defects of a statue. 
These are all works depending on individual talents and idiosyn- 
crasies — rays of truth and light proceeding from one brain and dying 
with it. But x\rchitecture stiinds on a totally diflferent footing. It is a 
progressive technic art, govenied by fixed laws, and reac^hing perfection 
when practised as a tnie art, by a definite and well-understood path. 
It thus requires no great amount of talent, nor even any extensive 
knowledge of the subject, when a building is finished, for any one to 
point out its faults of proportion, or its errors of detail. Almost ai:jr 
one, consequently, if instructed to erect a similar building for the sanie\ 
purposes with similar materials, ought to be able to do better than his "^^ 
predecessor if content to repeat his work, by mci'ely avoiding his mis- 
takes. Indeed there are few architects who, when their buildings are 
finished, would not like to begin (.leni again. AVhen erected, they see 
things that did not occur to them before, and which they would like to 
alter if it were not too late. AVhen this art is practised on true prin- 


ciples, each man only tries to avoid the errors of his predecessors, and 
to improve on their successes. It was this easy task that brought 
architecture to perfection wherever it succeeded ; and, when looked at 
from this progressive point of' view, it renders the task of the critic 
easy and his judgment clear. 

Thei*e are of course some buildings, such as the Parthenon at 
Athens or the Hypostyle Hall at Kamac, regarding which it is im- 
possible to see how they could be improved. In their especial direc- 
tion, progress beyond them seems to us impossible. Westminster 
Abbey and St. Ouen, Rouen, and some few other Gothic churches, 
seem also beyond improvement. So do many Indian buildings in 
their own line ; but it requires no great knowledge of the subject 
to see how most of our Gothic cathedrals and churches might have 
been better had they adopted forms or details which were used else- 
where, but which they either neglected or misapplied. Be all this 
as it may, no one will probably deny that the class of churches of 
which we are now speaking is one very open to criticism. They 
were invented in a bad age, and though there is progress among 
them, the school to which they belong never understood the steady, 
self-denying principles of progress which brought the Pointed styles 
to such a high degree of perfection. Each architect considered himself 
as a ci*eator or inventor, like a poet or a painter, and as entitled to in- 
dul<re in his individual fancies ; and as his style to a great extent was 
created by liimself, so also it consequently died with him. Still there 
was pro<rivss, as for instance between the exterior of St. Peter's and 
that of St. PuuPs, and l)etween the interior of the last-named chuivh 
and the interior of the Pantheon at Paris ; and gathering instruction 
from all that has gone l)efore, it does not seem difficult to arrange a 
plan which shall combine most of the merits while avoiding most of 
the errors of the churches which have been erected. At all events the 
annexed plan and section, whether they succeed in this or not, suffice 
to explain the conclusions on this subject which have been arrived at in 
consecjueuce of the investigations which this treatise has forwni upon its 

In the annexed diagrams the dome is dmwn with a diameter of 
100 ft., and as 164 ft. liigh internally. The nave, transepts and choir 
are fiO ft. wide by 100 ft. high, and the three subordinate domes are* each 
64 ft. diameter. The totjil length of the church over all outside is 
400 ft. east and west by 240 ft. across the transepts. 

Comparing these dimensions with those of St. Paul's, we find it is 
one-fifth less in length— 400 ft. as against 500. The breadth is about 
the same, but the whole area covered is also one-fifth less — 67,000 ft. 
against 84,000 ft. Yet with this reduction it is fully one-half larger 
internally for all state or litui'gical purposes, for the simple reason that 

VOL. 11. . 2 F 


Dlignin Plin at Latin Olhrdnl irrufroieDU. Sc*le to 

the nave, choir, and transepts are all more thau CO ft. wide coiii]>nred 
with 40 in the present church. If the dome iii the dii^ram wem 
increased to the 108 (t. of St. Paul's, and all the other parte pi-o- 
portionately extended, tlie total len^h would he 432 ft. ; the width of 
nave, &c.. 65 ft., and of the subaidiary domes and semi-dome, 7*1 ft. 
With these diuieiisiona it would aeuonmiodate on its floor a con^re^- 
tion greater by two-thirds than tlie present chnroh will contain, 
thongh remainin<; one-sixth less in dimensions. In other words, if the 
present church will accommodate, say 10,U00 persons, that shown in 
the diafjrams would equally well accommodate 15,000, and, with an 
increase of H per cent, in its dimensions, 17,000 at least. This would 
not be an nuinitigati.^ Iteiiefit if it were accompanied by any increased 
difficulty in seeing or liearin)^. But the coiiCrar}' is the case. The 
space under the dome would be the same, and that is as far as the human 
voice can reach in preaching : lint there are great festal occasions when 
in a metro)ioiiian (-^iihc<Inil it is moftt di^sirdble to accommodate a gieuter 



nnmber than can be reached by a single human voice in speaking. In 
some cases it is ahnost enough if those present see what is going on. 
and they always can be reached by choral services and music of a 
certain class. Whether lowering the dome 50 ft. would or would not 
have any effect on the human voice is not quite clear. If it had any, it 
must be in a beneficial direction. 

It could not either be considered a benefit if the additional spacions- 
ness were attained by any loss of artistic effect ; but it is evident that 
the result would be quite the contrary. Instead of being, as remarked 
before, three rooms with no definite harmony of proportion between 
them, there is no port in this building where the rest of it cannot be 
fairly seen,, and no part which is so laige or so high as to overpower 
and crush any other. It might be made more uniform and room-like 
by closing the openings through the four great pieis, and so diminishing 

their area. If this were done, the nave and transepcs m^fht have an 
opening of 70 or 7i> ft. to e dome of 100 ft. But this result would be 
gained at the expense of the long-draWn perspective, and of much of 
the variety and liglit and shade which the prfsent arrangement com- 
bines. Were this done, it would require the subordinate domes to 
l)e increased to 75 or HO ft., and in that case there would cease to be 
sufficient gradation between the great etntnil dome and the subordinate 

Comparing the proposed church with Sta. Sophia at Constantinople, 
which, so far as is known, is the most pui-fuct interior of a Ohristiun 
church yet erected anywhere, it will be obsen-ed tiiat their domes are 
of exactly the same relative height and proportion, and th<.'y are lighted 
in the same way. The one (juestion therefore is. Are two semi-domes of 
the same diameter as the great dome the Itest mode of joining the great 
doiuc to the rest of the church ; or is the Latin mode better, of having 

2 r 2 


the other parts covered with waggon-vaults leading up to the central 
dome in every direction ? 

On the whole it does not appear to me open to doubt but that the 
Latin mode is the most perfect, if properly carried out, but no perfectly 
successful example has yet been executed. In most cases the whole is 
thrown out of harmony by the excessive height of the dome internally. 
In Sta. Sophia alone is this perfect, and its proportion has consequently 
been adopted in the diagram. Its apex can be seen from almost every 
part of the church, and under an angle of 35° to the vertical. St. 
Paul's is practically a room twice as high as it is wide, and to see its 
apex you are obliged to look upwards at an angle of 20°, which 
is intolerable. The dome at Washington is a funnel, and its apex 
can only be seen at an angle of 14° from the vertical. A dome a 
little lower than even Sta. Sophia might perhaps Ikj better, but it 
would be difficult to bring it down without disturbing its relative 
proportion to the other parts. Where a proper proportion is main- 
tained, height in itself is one of the most important elements of effect, 
and ought never to be neglected except when out of harmony with the 
other parts of the building. 

The main proportions of the subordinate parts at St. Peter's are 
nearly the same as those adopted in the diagram, but at Rome they are 
crushed by the disproportionate altitude of the dome ; and in plan, too, 
it certainly is a mistake to make the choir and transepts absolutely iden- 
tical, both in plan and detail. The choir, as the most sacred part of 
the chuixjh, ought to be the most dignified, both in plan and decoration. 
Either it ought to extend eastward in the relative proportion shown in 
the diagram, or if you choose to consider the space under the dome as 
your choir, then it ought to terminate in an apse, as shown in the 
dotted lines. Another defect in the plan of St. Peter's is, that the 
gi-eat aisle that surrounds the dome is the same on all sides, and con- 
secjuently, though beautiful in itself, it wants meaning. The two domes 
on each side of the choir give it dignity, and are large enough to lie 
auxiliaiy chapels, with their altars looking the same way as the great 
altar, but the two on each side of the nave are not wanted. If they had 
altars, they must look towards the door, and they rather confuse than 
help the perspective of the nave. These defects in St. Peter's are 
sought to be avoided in the plan under discussion. In it the side 
chapels of the choir not only give dignity to the east end, and infinite 
variety of perspective, but they would be found of great value as 
morning or ceremonial chapels. It is one of the great defects of St. 
Paul's tliat the side aisles, especially of the choir, are practically useless, 
and that the only chapels there are two small ones 25 ft. by 50, at the 
west end, where they are not wanted. 

If these two side chapels were omitted, the building might be 
further reduced without its harmony being disturbed by bringing for- 

ArPENDIX. 437 

ward the apse to the position shown by the dotted linos, though then 
a different liturgical arrangement would of course be necessary. Other 
alterations might also be introduced to suit particular circumstances, but 
my impression is that unless something very like the proportion of parts 
indicated in these diagrams is maintained, success is not attainable in 
churches of this class or style of architecture. 

In conclusion, I may add that, were I making the design for a 
church, I would not have employed one great Order — internally at 
least. I would have divided the interior into two storeys of arcades, 
or, to use the language of Gothic architecture, have introduced great 
triforia everywhere ; and I would be very sparing of columns outside, 
if I used them at all. The plan and section here given are not meant 
as things that ought to be, or could be executed, but as diagrams to 
explain criticisms on churches which, with scarcely an exception, use 
a single range of pillars internally, and in almost all cases of the 
Corinthian order. 

I have not even attempted to design the dome, but assumed that it 
would, externally at least, be like that of St. Paul's — the most beauti- 
ful yet executed ; but I may remark that, by the mode of construction 
adopted, it would be easy to raise a cone of any height or strength to 
support a lantern of any required weight without at all interfering 
with any ornamental forms or features. The angle of the cone in this 
instance would Ikj only 15° to the vertical. Wren's is 25°, and rests 
on another with a slope of 5°, so as altogether to make a clumsy, 
broken sort of constniction. AVith a cone of 15° as a core, my 
conviction is that it would Ikj easy, with vertical ril>s, to build a brick 
dome of any re^iuired form, and if this were covered with good Portland 
cement it would 1x3 as dumble as stone, and, from the absence of joints, 
a cement covering, in this situation, would be more appropriate than one 
of stone. ^ 

Of course it would be absurd during the prevalence of the present 
Gothic mania to ask the good people of Edinburgh, who are about to 
build themselves a cathedral, or those of Liveqx>ol, who are thinkhig 
of so doing, whether such a church as this might not suit them as well 
as a Gothic one. It would be in vain to urge that it would hi more 
spacious relatively to its aixni, more suited for conga^gational purposes 
from the absence of pillars, more elegant from the purity of its 
details, more cheerful, and altogether more aj>propriate to the nineteenth 

* If the good people of Florence reaUy one with taste enough to panel it in 

wished to complete their cathedral and coloured cement, not in imitation of, but 

adorn their city, the best thing they could in harmony with, the lower part, the 

do would be to strip the wretched cover- exterior of the buiMing might yet be male 

ing of tiles off the dome of their Ciithe- as beautiful as it was originally designed 

dral, and replace them by a covering of by Aniolpho, in spite of the crushing 

cement. If it were possible to find any disflgurenient of Brunelleschi's dome. 


century and its wants. It may or might be all this, and more, but it is 
not what the clergy want, so it is no use arguing the question. But it 
is not the same at Berlin, where they are not, yet at least, so steeped 
in Mediaevalism as we are. They want a cathedral there, and have 
hitherto been most unsuccessful in their designs. Might it not be well 
for them to tuni their attention to elaborating, out of the fulness of 
their knowledge, such a design as this ? If they did it honestly and 
earnestly, and with sufficient self-denial, I feel convinced they might 
produce a more beautiful building than any of its class that now adorns 
any capital in Europe. 


The Editorial Additions indicated by italics. 

(Tho re-nuiiil^'ring of the pages luay somotiiiies be one page in error.) 

Jhnhrn City IlaJh ii. 139. 

Adam, HulxTt, ii. (5r>. 

A«U'li»iii Thoatrt', tho, L(»ndon, dimon- 

si(.iir> of, ii. 'i[i\. 
Atlminiliy Cmnp*.titlony ii. loi). 
AUmius (St.) AUm.ij^ ii. laS. 

, HoUtorus ii. 137. 

AUH:rt Hall, the, ii. 131), 142. 

AlUrt Hall, South Kousington, ii. 400. 

Allnrt Memorial, the, ii. 139, 101, 162, 

AlUrti, Uvn Battista, i. 02, 0.3-08, 102, 

Alcula, univi.Trtity at, i. 197, 198. Pani- 
iiimfo, atat«.' apartiiunt iu, i. 199. 
('(Hirt of'opal palac«* at, 
i. 198. 

Al«'szar, Tolrdo, i. 203. Extrmal facade 
i.\\ i. 204. 

Ah'Hsi, CTaK'ju>^\ i. 9."), 99, ir>7, 109, 100. 

Ah'xandra Park Palat't*, ii. 421. 

Alexandra Theatre, St. Prt(.'r>burgh, the 
diin«'Dsi<:n8 of, ii. 387, 390. 

All Saiutii\ Manjaret iStrttt. ii. 134, 135, 

All SouIh' Co11(>j?o, Oxford, ii .53. 

Allnhah'Kl, r/i/rtrs//// aU ii. 30f), 308. 

Alliaiii'f In^nrant'e <)Jin\ ii. 100. 

Aimmati, i. 118. 

Amlxjit*f', oaflthr of, i. 2.'>2 

Ami'rica, architooturo, intiCKluction of 
Classic htvh'H bv Spaniards, ii. 320. 
Mexico, ii'. 320, H23. Peru, ii. 323, 

America (North), architerture of, ii. 327- 
330. Washington, ii. 3H0 :^^9 Eccle- 
siastical architecture of, ii. 340-342. 

America, liecent Architecture, ii. 343. 

, Early ArchiteHure^ ii. 344. 

, Epoch of 1851, ii. 345. 

, After the War, ii. 347. 

, Importation of European Architec- 
ture, ii. 349. 

; Timber-work and Iron, ii. 351. 


America, Profemowtl Guild, ii. 355. 

, Jimrmili»m, ii. 355. 

, rhHi*tini*m, ii. 355. 

, Architertund Style, ii. 356. 

, Ecclesiastical Design, ii. 301. 

, Secular Gothic, ii. *300. 

, Ordinary ('laHsic, ii. 806. 

, Domestic Architecture, ii. 369. 

, Future of Architecture, il 373. 

American Taste, i. 171. 

Ames Buildinff, AV»r Yorl; ii HijS, ,374. 

Amcrtlmry House, elevation of, ii. 29. 

Aninianati, Hartolomeo, i 148. 

Amsterdam, studt-haus at, ii. 236. Onde 
Ken*k at, ii. 236. Nieuwe Kerck at, 
ii. 230. 

An<lrea (St.), Mantua, plan of church 
of, i. «)0. Section and elevation of 
l>or(!h, i. 67, tyS. 

Androuet du Ccrceau, i. 217. 

Angelo, Michael, i. 18, 77, 82, 83, 90, 94, 
95, 103, 124, 138. liO-143. lo7. 163. 

Amjlo'SaotOH Art, jjossible supremacy of, 
i. 171. 

Annunciata (Sta.), Genoa, plan of church 
of, i. 107. View, interior of, i. 108. 

Antwerp, Hotel de Ville at, ii. 230. 
Front elevation of, ii. 231. Ban Carlo 
Borr(»meo at, ii. 232. Theatre, tho 
dinien.nions of, ii. 394. 

Aranjuez, palact^ at, i. 204. 
Arches, triumphal, in France, i. 296- 
299. Genuany, dctieiency in, ii. 189. 
Architects, Italian, in Fnince, i 213. 
Architecture, modem styles, introduc- 
tion to, histxiry of, i. 2-56. Causes of 
cliange in : Revival of classical litera- 
ture, 1. 6-9. Reform in religion, i. 11- 
16. Painting and sculpture, i. 16-24. 
Technic and phonetic forms of, i. 24- 
34. Typical examples of changes 
i. 39-49. Remarks on history of, 
ii. 430, 431. 



Architecture, French and Italian, oom- 

part'd, i. 215. 
Arehittfcturey by tchom appreciated i, ii. 

Architectural Engineer ing, ii. 419. 
"" Architectural Art;* (a:i7.), ii. 126. 
** ArchiUctural Court*:' the, 1851, ii. 136. 
Architectutt, (ziii.) 
Arena, Padua, chapel of, i. 17. 
Arequipa Cathedral, Peru, ii. 323-326. 
AriBtotile, BaHtiano, i. 124. 

, Francesco, 1. 124. 

Amolpho, i. 62. 

Art, teehnic and phonetic forms of, 

i. 24-32. Examples of, i. 39-49 Eth- 

noprapliv of, i. 49-56. Ferro-vitn^ous, 

ii. 4:^ 433. 
Artist ami Critic, ii. 371. 
Artiftic Ueligion, ii. 144. 
Aiion Wfhb, ami Bell ii. 160. 
Athen*, National Acad^'my^ ii. 227, 228. 
Audlev Inn (or End), ii. 15. 
Augustin (St.), I»ari8, i. 237. 
Augustine's (St.), Ramsgate, ii. 134. 
Aukralian Architecture, ii. 171. 
Author, the, and the Holy Places, (jjt.) 

, in India, (arjr/.) 

, scheme of tlie, i. 1. 

, qualifications and attitude of the, 

, Memoir, (xxrii.) 

Baccio, i. 124. 

Bneza, Carcel del Cort<;at, i. 208. 

Balbi Palace, (Jenoa, i. 161. 

Balzan, ii. 317. 

Bitnhs and Barry, ii. 142, 150. 

BarViarano Palace, Viecnza, design of, 

i. 153. 
BarlM'rini Palace, Rome, vii'W of, i. 149. 
Barhirri, ii. 387. 
Barcelona, Lonja at, i. 206. 
Barmla, Mtlacc. at, ii. 307, 308. 
Barrow To\m Hall, ii. 146. 
Barry, ii. 121, 127, 128, 120, 134. 

, ^., ii. 136, 140, 151. 

Barry, Sir Charles, ii. 88-i>4, 112. 
Bartolini Palace, Florence, i. 124. 
Basovi, ii. 80, 81. 
Basilicnn churches in Italv — Exteriors 

of, i. 99-104. Interiors of, i. 104-112 
Basilicas, at Rome, i. 74, 92, 109. Vi- 

cenza, i. 156. Munich, ii 193, 194. 
Battle of the Styles, the (xjii.), ii. 123, 

Beckett, Sir E, ii 158. 
I5eckford, ii. 97, 98. 
Begum Kotie, I.ucknow, the, ii. 303. 

View of, ii. 303 
Belgium, ii. 229-235. 
li<'ll Rock, lighthouse of, ii. 41? 
lienares, college at, ii. 296. 
Bengal, domestic buildings of, ii. 299. 
B<'noni, i. 126. 

Bcresford'Hope, ii. 121, 124, 134, 163. 
Berlin, cathedral at, ii. 184. Church 

and theatre, view of, at, ii. 184. 
Schloss at, ii. 188. Brandenburg Thor 
at, ii. 189. Arsenal nt, ii. 189 The 
public library at, ii. 189. Vniwrsitv 
at, ii. 189. *Archite«-ture «•!*, ii 200. 
"NVerder Kirche at, ii. 2(»2. Plan of 
museums ut, ii. 204. Vit-w of new 
museum at, ii. 205. Theatre at, ii. 
205: dimensions of, ii. 3S7. Guard- 
house at, ii. 2(Hi. Buildiug-schiM)! at, 
fa^'ade of, ii. 207. New Exchange at, 
ii. 208. Elegance of <louiestic build- 
ings in, ii 208. View of group of houses 
at, ii. 20iK Palacre of Count Pourtales 
at, ii. 209. Oi)era-lH»use at, ii. 209; 
dimensions of, ii. 387, 394. Vietoria 
Theatre at, plan of, ii. 402. View of 
summer auditory of, ii. 403. fc^chin- 
kel's theatre at, plan, Arc, of, ii. 404. 

Berlin, dtcelling-house, ii. 223. 

, pfirliament'hoHSe, ii. 224, 227. 

Berne, Federal Palace at, ii. 217. View 
of, ii. 218. 

Bernini, i. 82, 149. 271. 

Berruguete, i. 202. 

Birkenhead, hank at, ii. 166. 

Birmingham Tmic Courts, ii. 1(><). 

Birmingham, nmsic-hall at, ii. 404. 

Blenheim Palace, plan of, i. 55. Ix^sser 
garden fn.nt (»f, i Ml 

Blois, casth? of, i. 252, 266. 

Blomficld, ii. 145, 156, 158, 168. 

Blonilel, i. •.:96. 

Blare, ii. 121, 127. 

Boillty, ii. 137, 158, 160. 

Bolsover Houri4>, ii. 16. 

BoniUiy, domestic buildings of, ii. 298. 

Bordeau.v, theatre at,, ii. 377; dimen- 
sions of, ii. ii93. Plan and facade of, 
ii. 395. Section of auditory ()f. ii. 396. 

Borghese Palace, Rome, fa<;ade of. i. 148. 

Borroiiieu, San Carlo, Vienna, plan of 
church t»f, ii. 183. 

, Antwerp, church of,.ii. 232. 

Borroiiiini, i. 93v 149 

Bos])honis, the Sultan's palace on, ii. 

Boston, Trinittf Church, ii 3.")9, 360. 

B^itticelli, i. 18. 

lioulogue, new cathedral at, i. 45. Co- 
lonne de hi Oninde AriiU'e at, i. 2l»5. 

liourlj^m Palais, Paris, the»i. 278. Re- 
iiuKlelling of, i. 282. Old pavilion of, 
i. 283. 

Bourse, the, Paris, view of, i. 283. Posi- 
tion and etiect of, i. 284. 

, TiVons, view of, i. 290. 

, Marseilles, i. 2i"K). 

, St. Petersburgh, ii. 272. 

Bow ChuH'h, lAHjdon,. steeple of» ii. 46. 

Bowman, ii. 184. 

Bradford Town J fall, ii. 146. 

Bradford, music-hall at, ii. 404. 

Bramante, i 69, 70, 76, 77, 82, 86, 138, 
139. 140, 165. 

Brandenburg Thor, Berlin, ii. 189l 
View of, ii. 189. 

Brandon. /A. iL 139. 



Brandon^ /?., ii. 134. 
Bregno, AnUmio, i. 126. 
Brera Palace, Milan, i. 166. 
Bric-a-brac Architecture, ii. 136, 137, 151, 

Brich Architecture^ ii. 136. 
Bride's (St.), London, steeple, Ac., of 

church of, ii. 47. 
Bridge wat«'r House, park fnait of, ii. 91. 
Bri^rnula I*alacc (Little), Genoa, i. 161. 

\iew of, i. 161. 
Bristol Caih-draU ii. 149, 167. 
BritiHh 3fuseuiu, London, plan of portico 

of, ii. 78. Fa9ade of, ii. 79. 
Britton, John, ii. 100, 106. 
Broad Sanrtimry^ WettmiMter, ii. 133. 
Brodrich ii. 136. 
Broletto Palace, Milan, i. 166. 
Brompton Oratory, ii. 158. 
Brooki', ii. 137, 155, 158, 168. 
Brosse, Do, i. 262. 
Bruges, St. Anne*a Church at, view of, 

ii. 233. 
Brunei, ii. 411. 
Brunelleschi, Filippo, i. 62-65, 82, 93, 

Bninswick, house at, i. 40. 
BrnAiieh, Palais d*" Justice, ii. 245, 246. 
Brussels, architectural buildings of, ii. 

233. Roval palace at, ii. 233. 
Brifce, ii. 139, lt;4. 
iWltinch, ( ' , ii. 330. 
BuUant, i. 296. 
Burg, thf, Vienna, ii. 170. 
i^frj/*K, i. 806; ii. 128, 132, 137, 139, 142, 

144, 1(11, ir,5, 167. 
Bur(frs*H IItnii*t\ vhimnnj-plicc iu, ii. 150, 

Burgognono, i. 71. 
Burh-igli HouHc, ii. Ifi 
Burlington n<iU8e, ii. 59. 
Bnrh'iujton //om«, ii. 150. 
Burn, li. 121. 
Burton, ii. 121, 127. 
Burtun, ii. 76. 
Bury, chateau de, near Blois, plan of, 

i. 251. View of, ii. 251. 
ButterjitUl, ii. 134, 137, 163. 

Cabjf, ii. 351. 

Caen Beriuudez, i. 179. 

Cairo, gnsil monque in citadel at, ii. 313, 

CaiuH College, Cambridge, Gate of 

Honour of, ii. 10. 
Calcutta, Oovernment-house at, ii. 293. 

Town-hall at, ii. 293 Martiniere at, 

ii. 29:{. Mt'trulfe Hall at, ii. 293. 

Extrrnal view of cathedral at, ii. 294. 

Intcri<»r view, ii. 295. The Fort 

church at, ii. 295. Houses of, ii. 298. 
'California, hou^e at Tajh Angf'h'€t, ii. 369. 

Calvarv, New York, church of, ii. 341. 
CamhnnU Clinrch, ii 127. 
Cuiubridge, King's College Chai)el at. 

i. 18. CaiuB Ck)llege, Gate of Honour 

of, ii. 10. St. Peter's College at, ii. 

11. Clare College, court at, ii. 11. 

Trinity College, Neville's Court at, 

ii. 11, 51, 76. College of Downing at, 

ii. 76. Fitzwilliam Museum, front 

view of, at, ii. 80. 
C/amerlinghi, Venice, end elevation, 

palace of, i. 106. 
Campbell, Colin, ii. 58. 
Canadian Architecture, ii. 170. 
Cancellaria, Rome, fa9ade of palace of, 

i. 139. 
Capclla, the, at Granada, 1. 180. 
Capitals, bracket, examples in Spain, 

i. 197, 198. 
Capra, villa near Vicenza, L 153. View 

of, 154. 
Caprarola, near Rome, plan and view of 

palace of, i. 146. 
Carcel del Corte', Baeza, view of, i. 208. 
Carega Palace, (xenoa, facade of, i. 157. 
Carig^ano, Genoa, facade of church of, 

i. 97. 
Carita, convent, de la, Venice, i. 133. 
Carlo Felice, Genoa, theatre at, dimen- 
sions of, ii. 387. 
Carlo (San), Milan, church of, i. 97. 

View of, i. 98. 
, thcatn?, Naples, the dimensions of, 

ii. 387, 389. 
Carlsruhe Theatre, the dimensions of, 

ii. 394. 
Carmelites, Ghent, church of, ii. 232. 
Carjtenter'* Gothic, ii. 127. 
Carr, ii. 67. 
Caserta, palace of the, Naples, i. 166. 

Facade of, i. I(i7. 
Cathedrals, I.Atin, ii. 435, 436. 
Catherine (St.), St. Petersburgh, church 

of, ii. 258. 
Catholic and Apostolic Church, Blooms- 
bury, ii. 134. 
Certosa, Pavia, western fa9ade of, i. 72, 

Chalgrin, M., i. 297. 
Chainliers, Sir William, ii. 62. 
Chaiiibord, chateau, plan of, i. 247. 

View of, i. 248. , Roof of, i. 249. 
Chandler, ii. 351. 

Chapelle expiatoire, Paris, i. 300. 
Charlemagne, ii. 274. 
Charlton House, ii. 16. 
Chtitcuux, France, architecture of, i. 246. 
Chel8(?a Hospital, ii. 50. 
Chenonceux, i. 252. 
Chepstow, tubular bridge at, ii. 412. 
Chc8t(T, Dee bridge at, dimensions, plan, 

Ac, of, ii. 410, 411. 
Chiericate Palace, Vicenza, elevation of, 

i. 152. 
Chi.-wick, villa at, ii. 26, 27. 
Church lieHtaration, ii. 139, 142. 
Churrigurescjue style, the, i. 180. 
Chutter Afunsil, Lucknow, ii. 302. 
Cimabue, i. 14. 

("isneros. Card., i. 197. Set' Ximenea. 
City of London ihhool, ii. 15X. 



City of London Guilds InstituUy ii. 160. 

City of London, ii. 137, 151. 

Clare College, Cambridge, court of, ii. 

Clarke Hall, Paisley, ii. 14(5. 
Classic and Gothio in contrast (xxi'i.), ii. 

166, 172. 
Claveri, ii. 183. 

Clothilde (St.), Paris, church of, i. 237. 
CluiubiT House, ii. 93. 
Oxikerell, ii. 80, W5, 87. 
Cockerell, ii. 121, 122, 128. 

, F., ii. 139. 

Cole, ii. 406. 

Cole, ii. 125, 129, 131, 136, 137, 161. 

Collcutt, ii. 160. 

O>lloredo Palazzo, Mantua, i. 153. 

Cologne, porch of liathhaus at, ii. 185, 

Colonne de la Grande Ariuee, Boulogne, 

the, i. 295. 

de Juillet, Paris, tlie, i. 295, 296. 

Colonial {liritish) Architect art, ii. 170. 
Columns, in France, i. 295, 296. St. 

Petersburgh, Emi>eror Alexander, mo- 
nolithic column at, ii. 280. 
Colzean Castle, ii. 97. 
Common-Sense Style, ii. 116. 
Compiirisim of National Tastes, i. 170 
Cotigdon, ii. 351. 

Congleton Toicn HaU, ii. 146, 166. 
Conservation of Am-ient Buildings, i. 

Constantia, Lucknow, mansiim of, ii. 301. 

View of, ii. 302. Tomb in, ii. 302. 
Constantinople, St. Sophia at, ii. 310. 

New Palace at, ii. 317. View of New 

Palace, ii. 318. Sulimanie Mosque, 

ii. 311. Mostjue of Ahmed, ii. 311. 
Constitutional Clubhouse, ii. 160. 
C<;>ntini, J. B., i. 187. 
Continuity of Ilitttorical Architecture, i. 

Copenliagen, view, (fee, of Exchange at, 

ii. 237. 
Copying in Architecture, ii. 120. 
Cornaro Palace (the original), Venice, 

i. 128, 129, 131. 
Cortilo, \\iv, introduction in English 

buildings, ii. 91. 
Cossins, ii. 1 16. 
Counterfeit, m^nhrn, i. 1 1. 

, English of thf l9//« rtntury, i. 35. 

, the IndeftHitih'r, i. 57. 

Country Architvrt*, the, ii. 146. 
Courtyards, (ieno«s(.*, in pulaci-s, i. 161. 
CoiYwi (rnrdrn Theatre, ii. 136. 
Critirimn, rultiration of, i. 59. 
Crit(rion Itefitaurant, ii. 151. 
Cronaca, i. 119. 
CrosslamK ii. 159. 
Crystal Palace, tlie, ii. 128. 
Crystal Palace, the, ii. 405. 

Dance, ii. 68. 

Dantzic, house at, ii. 210. 

Facade of> 

Darmstadt, Opera-house, the dimensiona 

of, ii. 387. 
Daris and Emanutl, ii. 151. 
Deane, ii. 134, 137. 
Decoration of St. PauTs, ii. 128. 
Decoration, Jesuit style of, i. 223. Louia 

Quatorze style of, i. 279, 280. 
Delhi, pavilion at, ii. 304. Audience 

hall of Shall Jchan at, ii. 304. 
Denis (St.), Porte, Paris, arch of, i. 296» 

Denmark, round-arched Gothic style 

in, ii. 237. Architecture of, ii. 237- 

Diagrams of Latin Domes, ii. 433-437. 

of Music Hall bv Saunders, ii. 407. 

Diai)er, ii. 351. 

lhy)y Wyatt, ii. 121, 129, 132. 

Dijon, cathedral at, i. 215. ] 

i. 21.5. 

, Hotel Vogui.», at, i. 256. 

Dogana Palace, Venire, i. 95, 134. 
Dom, Salzburg, ii. 185. 
Dome of St. PauTs, design of the^ ii. 42. 
Domes, critical comparison of lutrious, ii. 

Domes, Mediajval, Italian Renaissance, 

copies of, i. 71. 

, Italy, in, i. 93, ii. 434. 

Domestic arohitecture in France, ex- 
amples of, i. 292-2i)4. 
Domieal churches in Italv, i. 93-98. 
Donaldson, ii. 121, 122, 127, 131. 
Dorchtster House, ii. 128. 
Doria Tursi, Genoa, view of palace of,. 

i. 158. 
Doulton^s Factory, ii. 145. 
Draughtsmnnshi p, ii. 132, 154, lOS. 

, French and English, ii. 166. 

Dresden, Liebfrauen Kirche, at, ii. 181, 

182. Hof-Kirche at, ii. 183. Zwirner 

Palace at, ii. 187. Japanese Palace 

at, ii. 188. New theatre and picture 

gallery at, ii. 211. 
Du Cereeau, i. 217, 2r,0, 262. 
The Duke's, tirst iK'rmanent theatre in 

lA»ndt)U, ii. 377. 
Duhrich CoUcgr, ii. 142. 
Dunstan's (St.), in the East, London^ 

ehureh of, ii. 49. 
Duperac, i. 2t>2. 
Durazzo Palazzo, Genoa, the, i. 158, 15ft. 

View of, i. 156. 
Dutch Tombs, at Surat, ii. 290. 

I Eastlah'f\ ii. 141. 

Eaton Hall, ii. 146. 
I Ejrch*iantical Art, dignity of ii. 8. 
I Eceh'itiohHjy, ii. 144. 
Eddystone, lighthouse of, ii. 412. 
Edinburgh, Heri(>t's Ilttspital, gateway 
at, ii. 16. C'oUege at, principal fayade 
of, ii. 6.">. Koyal Institution at, ii. 84. 
New High-school at, ii. 85. York- 
place C'haiH.1 at, ii. 105. Cathedral 
at, ii. 105. 



Edinburgh, Si. Mary\ ii. 142, 143, 165. 

Edinburgh^ Municipal BuUding$, iL 159. 

Edig, ii. 160. 

Editorial Additions, (xiv.) 

Eglinton Castle, ii. 97. 

Eidlitz, ii. 351. 

Eindhoven, church at, ii. 247. 

Elizabethan and '* Queen Anne," ii. 152. 

Elliot, ii. 97. 

Elmef, ii. 128. 

Elsinoro, castle of, ii. 239. 

Emerson, ii. 306, 308. 

Enginecrinji:, Civil, ii. 409-418. Mili- 
tary, 423-426. 

Engineering, architectural, ii. 419. 

England, Kenaissanco styles in, intro- 
duction to history of, ii. 1-5. Tran- 
sition style in, examples of, ii. 6-19. 

, Renaissance architecture of: — 

Inigo Jones, ii. 20-30. Wren, ii. 30- 
52. 18th century, ii. 53-69. Clas- 
sical Kevival in, ii. 70-94. Steps 
which led to Revival in, ii. 71. Gothic 
revival, ii. 96. Causes which led to, 
ii. 101. Advantages of Gothic stylo 
in, ii. 102. 

English Gocernment, the, and the Archi- 
terts, ii. 117. 

English Counterfeit, the, i. 35. 

English Tast^, i. 171. 

Engravings, choice of additiomiL i^iv.) 

Entablature, placing of, over columns, 
ii. 61. Diagram, showing reversion 
of, ii. 61. 

Ejmch of 1851, the. (xi.), ii. 121, 125, 

Eflcuriftl, the, romincnceinent of, i. 187. 
Plan of, i. 191. Hird's-eyc view of, 
i. 192. Sectit>n througli clnirch and 
atrium <»f, i. liKJ. Courts of, i. 193, 
194. Churcli of, 194. Dimensions 
and matcriuirt of, i. 191, VJo. 

Espinosa, Andrea, ii. '^2'^. 

Etienne (St.), Paris, church and rcKKl- 
Hcreen of, i. 220. 

Europe, \orth-Weatem, Renaissance 
architecture of, ii. 229-244: — Helgium, 
ii. 229-234. Holland, ii. 235, 236. 
Denmark, ii. 237-239. Hamburg, 
ii. 240, 241. Sweden and Norway, ii. 

Eustache (St.), Paris, plan of church of, 
i. 219. Ray of, i. 220. 

Exchange, Royal, London, ii. 79. 

Exhibition, International, of 1851, the 
(xii.), ii. 124. 

Exeter Hall, London, ii. 404. 

Faijades, Italian churches, their import- 
ance and treatment in, i. 72, 99-104. 

Fancelli, Luca, i. 118. 

Famese Palace, Rome, plan of, i. 141. 
Front of, i. 142. 

Famesina, near Rome, villa of, i. 140. 

Fenicc Theatre, Venice, the dimensions 
of, ii- 387. 

Eergusson, ii. 121, 124, Memoir^ xxvii. 

Feman Cortes, ii. 321. 

Ferry, ii. 137. 

Eerstel, ii. 228. 

Fettes College, Edinburgh, ii. 139, 140, 

Filarete, i. 164. 

Finn Barr (St.), ii. 137. 

Fischer, Johann, ii. 183. 

Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, front 
view of, ii. 80. 

Flambovant stvle in France, i. 214. 

Florence, San Lorenzo, at, i. «»4. Santo 
Spirito, at, i. 63, 64. Secular Archi- 
tecture of, i. 116-125. Riccardi 
Palace at, i. 116-118. Pitti Palace 
at, i. 116-119. Strozzi Palace at» 
i. 119. Rucellai Palace at, i. 119. 
(»ondi Palace at, i. 120. Guadagni 
Palace at, i. 123. Nic4)lini Palace at, 
i. 123. I»andolfini Palace at, i. 124. 
Bartolini Palace at, i. 124. 

Fontainebleau, palace at, i. 246. 

Fontana, Dominico, i. 82, 93, 149; ii. 

Fonthill Abbey, commencement, &c., of, 
ii. 97. View of, ii. 98. 

Forbes, Colonel, ii. 293. 

Fitrgery in Architecture, ii. 120. 

Forster, L., ii. 214. 

Fowkc, (^apt., ii. 406. 

Fowhe, ii. 139, 141. 

Fran, e. Renaissance Architecture, intro- 
duction into, i. 213. Gothic feeling 
in examples of, i. 214, 215. Eccle- 
siastical Architecture of, i. 219-237. 
Secular Renaissance Architecture, his- 
tory in eras of: — Era of Francis I., 
i. 240-257. Age of Henri (^uatre, 
i. 258-2(^4. l^.uis Quatorze, i. 265- 
281. The ]>eri(.Ml of the Emi)ire- i. 
282-300. Chateaux of, i. 24(;. Do- 
mestic Archit(j<'ture of, i. 292-294. 
Tn.i>hie8 and tombs of, i. 294-300. 

Frances*" » (San), Rimini, view of church 
of, i. 65. 

Frederick's Bau, Heidell)erg, ii. 185. 

Fredericksliorg, <*astle of, ii. 238. 

Fne (lasfir, ii. l.VJ. 

Frcemaifmis^ Tavern, ii. 139. 

Frinrh Architecture Hiuler Napoleon llLy. 
i. 30;). 

Frtnrh Taf^tr, i. 170. 

- — and Jiellenir colonization i', i. 314. 

Fn nrh Decorative Artiste and Architects^ 
ii. Uui. 

Freneh and Italian Architecture com- 
pared, i. 215. 

Furrah Buksh, Ijucknow, the, ii. 302. 

Gabriel, i. 278 ; ii. 399. 

Gaillon, ch&teau, portion of fa9ado of» 

i. 260. 
Galilei, Alessandro, i. 93. 
(iaHo (San), Antonio, i. 78-82, 86, 95. 
Gilrtner, ii. 192. 



Gatt, Angelo, i. 46. 

Genevieve (St.) (or Pantheon), com- 
mencement and dimensions of church 
of, i. 229. Plan of, i. 230. Section of 
dome, i. 232. West fnmt of, i. 231. 
Internal arran^ment, &c., i. 231-234. 
Library of, i. 281). 

Genoa, Carignano church at, i. &7. Sta. 
Annunciata at, i. 107, 108. Archi- 
tecture, i. 156, 1U2. Palaces of, their 
merits and materials, i. 157. Tursi 
Doria, palace at, i. 158. Royal Palace 
(formerly Diirazzo Marccllo) at, i. 158, 
159. Carega Palace at, i. 159, ItJO. 
Sauli Palace at, i. ICO. I'alacen, their 
peculiarities in painting, and eourt- 
vards of, i. 100. Their position and 
effect, i. 101. Balbi Palace at, i. 161. 
Mari Palace at, i. 101. Little Brig- 
nola Palace at, i. 101. Carlo Felice 
Theatre at, ii. 387, 390. 

George, ii. 153, 100, 108. 

<ieorgc*H (St.), Bloomsbury, London, 
church of, ii. 53. 

in the East, Ix>ndon, church of, ii. 


, Hall, I-.iverpool. Dimensions of, 

ii. 81. Plan of, ii. 82. View of, ii. 83. 
Germain-cn-Laye (St.), palace of, i. 252. 
German Tatttf^ i. 171. 
Genmiuy : recent architecture, ii. 220. 
Gcrmunv, historv of lienaissancc Archi- 

tecturt?, intnMluction to, ii. 178, 179. 

Ecclesiastical An'hitecture of, ii. 180- 

185. Secular Architecture of, ii. 185- 

189. Revival, ii. 191-219. 
Ghirlandajo, i. 18. 
(iianbattistii, i. 1S8. 
Gibbs, .lamcH, ii. 00. 
Giorgio, Francc8<*o di, i. 120. 
Giottn, i. 14, 17, 02. 
Giovanni <li Pa<lua, ii. 0. 
Gimrdini, i. 278. 
Giruud Palazzo, Rome, i. 139. 
GiuHtina (Sta.), Padua, church of, i. 109. 
Glangow, AnHeinbly Rooms at, ii. 05. 

Roman Catholic Cathedml at, ii. 105. 
Ghif^ow UnirtriiHijy ii. 139. 
Glattgow Muuifu'pal ]htildimj», ii. 159. 
Glasgoic W<ireh<ntm\ ii. 109. 
Glenchaht, ii. 352. 
Glyptothfk, Munich, the, view of, ii. 

i97. ; plan of, ii. 198. 
Goa, churches and cloisters at, ii. 280, 

Gofhrin, A'., ii. 140, 100. 
Gohiie, ii. 137, 104. 
(fondi l*alace, Florence, i. 120. 
Gothic. Architecture, Author' h a2>o1ogy, 

(j:r/7., xjri.) 
Gonrnrntnt OJice^ Comimtititm {xxii.% 

ii. 134. 
Gnwro (./hurch. New York, ornamentation 

and view of, ii. 340, 341. 
GrreccHRoinano style, the, i. 180. 
Gran, cathtdral at, i. 47 
Granada, <athedral at, i. ISI : ])lan of, 

i. 181. Palaco of CliarlrH V. at, i. 203. 

Grange House the, ii. 83. View of, iL 

Grec (RitoX St. Petersburgh, half-eleva- 
tion, half-section, church of, ii. 259. 

Greek Temple, critical development of, i. 

Greenwich, hospital at, ii. 28, 50. 

Gribble, ii. 158. 

Griefswald, house in, i. 39. 

Griiiiani Palace, Venice, i. 41, 130. 

Grinitliorpe, Lord, ii. 158. 

Grofvenor Hotel, ii. 130. 

Guadagni Palace, Florence, i; 123. 

(Juarenghi, ii. 208, 272. 

Guarini, i. 100. 

Gumiel, Pedro, i. 196. 

Halifax Town Hall, ii. 95. 

Hamburg, Street and Domestic Archi- 
tecture of, ii. 239. Post-office at, ii. 
240. National Society's buildings at, 
ii. 240. Theatre, the dimensions of, 
ii. 394. 

Hamilton, ii. So. 

Hampton Court, palace of, ii. 50. Wol- 
sey's palace at, ii. 50. 

Han»en, ii. 228. 

Hardwich, ii. 121. 

Hardwicke Hall, ii. 15. 

Harewood House, ii. 07. 

Harrington Gardeni*, Keimngton, ii. 153, 

Harrison, ii. 410. 

Hatlield House, ii. 10. 

Have, Theodore, ii. 0. 

HawkH)u(x>r, ii. 53. 

Heidelberg, castle at, ii. 185. 

Heriot's Hospital, Edinburgh, gateway 
of, 11. 17. 

Herrera, Franc, i. 185. 

, Giovanni di, i. 179, 184, 190, 200. 

HUh ii. 351. 

i//m, ii. 140. 

Historique Theatre, Paris, the dimen- 
sions of, ii. 394. Plan, &c., of, ii. 397. 

Hof-Kirche, Dres«lcn, ii. 183. 

Holkham House, facade of, ii. 08. 

Holland, ii. 70. 

, Renaissance Architectural build- 
ings of, ii. 235. 
House, ii. 16. 

HoUoicay College, ii. 159. 

Holt, Thomas, ii. 12. 

Holy Innoctnts' Church, ii. 155, 168. 

Hontanon, Rodrigo Gil, i. 181, 196. 

, Gilde, i. 181. 

Hotel Vogue, Dijon, window head of, i. 

de Ville, Antwerp, ii. 230. Front 

elevaticm of, ii. 232. 

Hotels, Paris, external appearance, &c., 
and defects of, i. 276, 278. Hotel de 
Ville, i. 253. New buildings of, i. 288. 
Hotel de Rohan, i. 276. Hotel Soubise, 
i. 270. Hotel de Noiiilles, i. 277. 

Hunt, ii. 351, 355. 



Howard Castle, elevation of park-front 
of, ii. 57. 

Idelfonao (San), palace of, i. 20C. 

TUitstrntioiv, choice of, (xiv.) 

Imitation mul Counterfeit, i. 14. 

Imperial Institute, ii. 160. 

Inaia, Renaissance Architecture, how in- 
troduced in, ii 284, 285. By Portu- 
guese, ii. 285-287. The Spaniards, 
Dutch, and French, ii. 289-291. Bv 
Engli^ll, ii. 292-299. Native Renaiss- 
ance Architecture, ii. 300-305. Ex- 
amples of, ii. 300. 

Imiia Office, ii. 139. 

India, recent architecture in, ii. 307. 

Indian Architecture, Xatice, i. 28. 

''Iwlufftrial Artf,tfi€'' (xii.), ii. 132. 

Infanta, Zaragoza, court in the palace 
of, i. 201. 

Invalides Church. Paris, plan of dome of, 
i. 224. Section of dome, i. 225. Fa9ade 
of dome, i. 220. Dimensions of, i. 220. 
Crypt, cost of, i. 300. 

Inverary Ct^tle, ii. 97. 

Iron Front, Netc York, ii. 354. 

Isaac (St.) Church, .St. Petersburgh, site 
and commencement of, ii. 260. Plan 
and dimensions of, ii. 261. North-oast 
view of. ii. 262. Porticoes, &c., of, ii. 
263. Half section of dome of, ii. 264. 
Materials, internal arrangements, &c., 
of, ii. 2<>4-2(>6. 

Isidro (San) Chiipel, Ma<lrid, ornamenta- 
tion of, i. 186. 

Italia u Ch u n-h . 1 rrh itcrt u rf a fa il u re ?, 
i. 112. 

Italian Taittt , i. 17(K 

lt(dian Sti/h., modfrn^ i. 169. 

ItaiicDH Tluutrr, Parin, tlu' dimensions 
of, ii. :«H. 

Jtahj, rtrent arrhiUrtur«' in, i. 172. 
^ Italy, E('clej*ia8ti<':il Architecture (jf, i. 
62-112. Churches anterior to St. 
Peter's, i. 61-74. St. Peter's, i. 74-90. 
Churches sulwtMjuent to St. Peter's, i. 
90-93. Domical churches, i. 93-98. 
Pasilican churches, exteriors, i. 99-104. 
Hasilican churches, interiors, i. 104- 
112. Secular Architecture of, i. 114- 
169. Florence, i. 116-125. Venite.i. 
125-1.36. Rome, i. 136-150. Vicenza, 
i. 150-156. Genoa, i. 1,56-162. Man- 
tua, i, 162, 163. Milan, i. 163-166. 
Turin and Naples, i. 166, 167. 

I vara, i. 1(>6, 204. 

Ivra, i. 97, 98. 

Jackmn, ii. 157, 169. 
Jaen, capital of, cathednil at, i. 183. 
James's (St.) Church (Pi<cadilly), Lon- 
don, view of interior of, ii. 48. 

Music! Hall, London, ii. 404. 

Jfinsen, ii. 16. 

•ff^paneie Art, ii. 136, 153. 

Japanese Palace, Dresden, view of, ii 

Jeune, I e. i. 293. 
John's (St ) College, Oxford, garden 

front of, ii. 11. 
Jone9, //., ii. 139. 
Jone9, (), ii. 121, 134. 
Jones, Inigo, ii. 1, 6-30. 
Juan (San) de los Reyes, Toledo, i. 180. 
; Junior Carlton Club house, ii. 139 
Junior United Service Club, ii. 136. 

Kaiser Bagh, Lucknow, ii. 302. 

Kasan, Our Lady of, St. Petersburgh, 
church of, ii. 257. Plan of, ii. 258. 

Keddlestone Hall, ground-plan and gar- 
den front of, ii. 66 

Kennington, cliurch at, ii. 73. 

Kenaington, St Mary AbfndVe, ii. 137. 

Kent, il. 21, 59. 

King's College, Cambridge, chapel of, 
i. 18. 

King's Cro$$ Railway Station, ii. 128. 

Kieff, church at, ii. 278. 

Kittoe, Captain, ii. 296. 

Klenze, ii. 195, 210, 275. 

Klosterneuberg, convent of, ii. 215. 

Knmrles, ii. 136. 

Kokorin, ii. 273. 

Kuttenburg, German spire at, ii. 216l 

Lambton, castle of, ii. 97. 

Ij4trge Stow-icork ami Small, i. 120. 

Latemno, San Giovanni, Rome, church 

of, i. 92. Lateral i>orch of, i. 92. 

Fa<;ade of, i. WX 
LatnilK', B. H., ii. 330. 
Law Courtx, I^mdon, ii. 12(5, 139, 140, 

\\r\ 148, 166. 
TA't'd^ Totcn IlalK ii. 136 
Leeds, music hall at, ii. 404. 
Leujaire. i. 276. 
Lemercier, i. 262, 271. 
Leonardo da Vinci, i. HU). 
Leoni, Lccme (otherwise Chevalier Are- 

tino), i. 166. 
Les<M)t, Pierre, i. 242. 
Levau, i. 267. 
Liebfrauen Kirche, Dresden, plan of, ii. 

181. View of, ii. 182. 
Lienau, ii. 351. 
Lighthouse, Bellrock, ii. 412. 

Eddystone, ii. 412. 

Skerry vore, ii. 412. 

Lille Cathedral ComiH'tition, i. 306. 
Liverpool, St George's Hall at, ii. 81-83. 

Music hall at, ii. 403. 
Liverpool, St. Georg*:* Hall, ii. 128, 165. 

Cathedral Competition, ii. 158. 

Living Architecture and Lifele$$, i. 49 
Ix>cli\c<HHl and Mawmn, ii. 146. 
lA)ndon Unirerftity, ii. 139. 
iMnditn School Botird Offices, ii. 160. 

Schooh, ii. 160. 

Ixmdon, Whitehall Palace at, Inigo 

Jones's designs for and diagrams of. 



ii. 21,22. Banquetinp^-houBc at, i. 24. 
(Old) St. Paul'B Cathedral at, ii. 26. 30. 
St. Paul's at, plans, elevations, oxtorior, 
and internal arrangement of, ii. 31-42. 
St. Taurs (Covent Garden) at, ii. 25. 
Bow Chureh at, ii. 46. St. Bride's at, 
ii. 47. St. Stephen's, Walbrook, ii. 46. 
St. James's (Picca«Ully) at, ii. 48. St. 
Dimstan's (in the East) at, ii. 4t). St. 
Miehaers(Comhill)at,ii 49. Chelsea 
Hospital at, ii. .50. Monument at, ii. 
52. College of Physieians at, ii. .V2. 
St George's (Hl<Kjmsbury) at, ii. 53. 
St. (ieorge's (in the Etist) at, ii. 54. 
St. Mary (W«M)lnotli) at, ii. 54. 
Treasury Buildini^'s nt, ii. 51). St. 
Martin's (in the Fields) at, ii. r,0. 
S<»mers«-t H«>urt4' at, ii. r»4. Mansion 
Htmse Jit, ii. 68. Nt;wgate, ii. 6U. St. 
Panerus new eliureh at, ii. 73, 74. Bank 
of England ut, ii. 75, 76. I'nivrrsity 
Buildings, Burlington (iardi-ns, ii. S(} 
I'niv<Tsity, Gower Street at, ii. 77 
National (iallery at, ii. 77. Hritisli 
Museum at, ii. 78 lloyal Exehanire, 
ii. 7i>. Coll<'ge of Surgecjns at, ii. 88. 
Travellers' Club at, ii. 89. Ueform 
Chib at, ii. 89, 90. Parliament Housrs 
at, ii. 9'A 94, 107-113. St. Luke's, 
C'lulsta, ii. 105, lOtl. Tlie Duke's, 
lirst pt'rmunrnt theatre at, ii. 377. 
Opera llous*' at, ii :J78, 3S7, 31M). 
Covrnt (Jardrn Thratre at, ii. 378, 
387. Drury Lane 'J'hrutn' at, ii. 378, 
39 L :{9i». Lvet'um Tluatn- at, ii. 391. 
Adrlphi Theatre at, ii. 394. Ex.tcr 
Hall at, ii. 404. St. James's Hall at, 
ii 404. St. Martin's Hall at, ii. 404. 
London Bridge at, ii. 411. \Vaterl(>o 
Bri<lg«' at, ii. 411. King's Cri»}s Kail- 
way Station at, ii. 413-415. Wcst- 
minstrr Hall at, ii. 413. St. Paneras 
Kaihvay Statiiu, ii. 416. 

Longford Casth*. ii. 15. 

Longhrna, Haldassare, i. 94, 126. 

Lungleat House, ])hin of, ii. 12. Eleva- 
tion of part of, ii. 13. 

Lonja, thir Bare»;lona at, i. 206 — at 
Si'ville, i. 206. 

San Lorenzo, Florence, Chureh of, i. 64. 

lA)rme, PhililR>rt d«', i. 258, 260. 

IxtH Amjtflef, hoitse aU ii. 369, 374. 

Loudon Castle, ii. 97. 

Louis Vietor, ii. 377, 395. 

St. Louis and St. Paul, Paris, fa<;.ide of 
church of, i. 221. Commencement, 
&.-., of, i. 222. 

Louvre, Paris, the rebuilding of, i. 242. 
Plan of, i. 243. Part of court, i. 244, 
215. l»art of gallery of, i. 26L 
Completion of, i. 271. Eastern fa<^e 
and plan of fa<;ado of. i. 272. Central 
compartment, northern fa9ade of,i. 273. 
View of angle of the Ojur NaiKrleon 
of, i. 286. 

Lowther Castle, ii. 97. 

Jjotether I^xige^ ii. 153, 168. 

Lucknow, Cunstantia mansion at,ii. 301, 




302. The Fnrrah Buksh at, ii. 302. 
Chutter Munsil at, ii. 302. Kaiser 
Bagh at, ii. 802. Begam Kotie at, ii. 

303. Martini^re at, ii. 302. 
Liicknow, Canning CoUtge, ii 308, 309. 
Ludovico, i. 209. 

Ludwig (St.). Munich, church of, iL 192. 

Luine, A., i. 294. 

Luke's (St.) (Chelsea), Tendon, church 

of, ii. 105. West fn)nt of, ii. 106. 
Lund Unicersity^ ii. 247, 248. 
liUnglii, Martino (the elder), i. 148. 
Lupiana, cloistered court in monastery 

of, i. 200. 
LuxeiiilMJurg Pahu?e, Paris, plan of. i. 262. 

Additions to and elevation of, i. 263. 
liVceum Theatre, London, tlie dimensions 

\.f, ii. 394. 
Lijnn, ii. 146. 
Lyons, new Bourse at, i. 290. Theatre 

at. ii. 377. Diuiensions of. ii. 394, 397. 

Plan of, ii. 397. 

.Maca<», Jesuits' church at, fa9a«le of, iL 

Machuca, i. 202. 
Madama Villa, Rome, i. 143. 
Madeleim*. Paris, church of, i. 235. 

Plan of, i. 235. 
Maderno, Carlo, i. 82, 149. 
.Madras, domrstie buildings of, ii. 301. 
Madri<l, San Isi<lro, chaptrl at, i. 186. 

Koyal Palacr at. i. 204, 205. Museo 

at, i. 207. Theatre at, dimensions of, 

ii. 3.S7. 

— chateau of, Paris, i. 249, 250. 
M alra, convent at. i. 209. View of, i. 210. 
^laggiore, San (Giorgio, Venice, plan of 

church of, i. 102. Interior of, i. lOt?. 
Maisons (u«*ar Paris), chateau de, i. 275. 
Majano, (liuliauo de, i. 137. 
Malaga, Puerta de las Cadenas, cathe- 
dral of, i. 185. 
Malta, Mousta Chur<*h in, i. 4t». 47, 48. 
^lanchester, music hall at, ii. 404. 
Mitiif'hi'ter Aexizt' Courttt, ii. 139. 
Maurhi^U'r Toicn Uall, ii. 13J), 141, 146, 

Mansard, Francois, i. 223. 267, 271. 274, 


, Jules Hardouin. i. 224. 267, 278. 

Mansion House, London, ii. 68. 

Mant, ii. 307, 308. 

Mantua, Church, St. Andrea at. i. &\. 67. 

St. Sebastian at, i. 68. Palazzo del 

Te at, i. 162, 163. Palazzo Colloredo 

ai, i. 164. 
Mari Palace. Genoa, i. 161. 
Mitria {Sta.), Zcbenico, Facade, i. 105. 
Maria (Sta.), Milan, church of, i 69, 70. 

View of, i. 72. 
Mark (St.), Venice, Library of, i 131. 

End elevation of, i 132. 
Marot, i. 271. 
Marseilles, New Exchange at, i. 290. 

Arch at, i 296. Theatre at, ii. 394. 



MarteiUei^, School of Art, i. 311, 312. 

Martin, General, h. 301. 

, Porte St., Paris, arch of, 1. 296. 

Martin's (St.), London, music liall of, 
ii. 403. 

(in the Fields), Ix>ndon, interior 

view of church of, ii 60. 

Mary's (St.) (Woolnoth), London, church 
of, ii. 54. 

Massimi, Pictro Palace, Rome, i. 140. 

, Anjrelo Palace. Rome, i. 140. 

^(190^^% College^ Birmimjhfim^ ii. 146. 

Maximilian htrasse, Munich, ii. 201. 

Mayence, theatre at, dimensions of, ii. 
394. Plan and section and arrange- 
ment of. ii. 400. 

McArthur^ ii. 351. 

McCarthy, ii. 137. 

McGill University, ii. 170, 171. 

McLdUffhUn, ii. 351. 

MelliOHrne Varliament House, ii. 172, 173. 

Melbourne Ii. C. Cathedral, ii. 174, 177. 

Menai Strait, tubular and 8Usi)en8ion 
bridges at, ii. 411. 

Merced, convent of Na. Sa. do la, ii. 323. 

Mercier, Lo, i. 223. 

Meudon, pahicc at, i. 274. Garden front 
of, i. 274. 

Mexico, catliodral, site and cc»mmoiire- 
ment of, ii. 321. External view of, ii. 
321. View of side-nisle in, ii. 322. 
Cloisters of monastic establishments 
at, ii. 323. 

Michaeloftskv Palace, the, at St. Peters- 
burgh, ii. 269. 

Michaid*8 (St.) (Cornhill), London, 
churcli of, ii. 40. 

Michael's (St ), Munich, church, plan, 
and 8ecti<»n of, ii. 180. 

Michelc (San), i. 126. 130.; ii. 423. 

Michelozzo, i. 116, 118. 

Michi<jiin, church at Ann- Arbor, ii. 365. 

Milan, Santa Maria delle Grozie at i. (59- 
71. San Carlo at, i. 97. Architt ctural 
magniliccnce, deficiency of examjiles 
at, i. 164. Ospidale Grande at, i. Hj4, 
165. Palace Cusa Rotta at, i. 166. 
Br^ra Palace at, i. 166. Broletto 
Palace at, i. 166. The Scala Theatre 
at, ii. 377, 387, 388. 

Milan, Victor Emanuel Gallery, i. 176. 

"^ Minor Artn, the" (xii.), ii. 126, 137, 
143, 160, 163. 

Minore (San Siiuone), Venice, church of, 
i. 94. 

Modern European Style, the, i. 9 ; ii. 117, 

Modern Italian Style, the, i. 169. 

Modlin, granary at. ii. 425. Central com- 
partment and fa^'ade of, ii. 426. 

Molk, church at, ii. 185. Convent at, 
ii. 215. 

Mollen, Dr , ii. 401. 

MonagJian Catliedral, ii. 137. 

Montterrand, Cheyalier de, ii 260-266, 

M<mimartrey Church of the Sacred Heart, 

Montorio (San Pictro), Rome, church of, 

Monument, the London, ii. 52. 

Morris, ii. 158. 

Moscow, Riding-house at, span of roof 
of. ii. 274. Theatre at, ii 390. So- 
calleil churches, ii. 253. 

Mould ii. 351. 

Mousta Church, Malta, plan and section 
of, i. 46. View of, i 48. 

Muller, ii. 180. 

Munich, church of St. Michael at, ii 180. 
Cathedrnl at, ii 185. Ecclesiastical 
Archit<?cture of, ii. 192. St. Ludwig 
at, ii. 192. The Aue Kirche at. ii. 193. 
Basilica at. ii. 193. The Walhallu at, 
ii. 195, mi Ruhmes-halle at, ii. 197. 
Secular Architecture' of, li 197. Glvp- 
tothek at, ii. 197, 198. The Pinacothe»-. 
at, ii. 198, 199. Roval Palace at, ii. 
200. Public Library at ii. 200. The 
University, the Blind School, War 
Office, and palace of Prince Lichtcn- 
stcin at, ii. 200. Theatre at. ii. 387. 
Plan and external appearance of, ii. 

Musco, Madrid, the view of, i. 207. 

Music lialls in England, ii. 404-407. 

Naples. Cascrta, Palace at i. 166. 167. 

San Carh) Theatre at, ii. 387, 389. 
Napoleijn's tomb at Paris, i. 300. 
Nash. ii. 76, 100. 
Nash, ii. 127. 

National (Jallery. London, ii. 77. 
Natiotial Lilteral Club-house, ii. 160. 
NatiotMl Taste : Italian, French, English, 

American, i. 170. 
Natiotial (lallcry, Edinburgh, ii. 136. 

Conifkiition, ii. 139. 

Natural History Museum, ii. 141, 145. 

NauvtX), Mormon Temple at, ii 341. 

Nelson, ii. 136. 

Nco-Grtc, i. 304. 

Newcastle, facade of railwav station at, 

ii 417. 
Ncwpate Prison, front elevation of, ii (J9. 
Newski (St. Alexander), St Petersburgh, 

monastery ai.d church of, ii. 255.^ 
New York, Trinity Cliurch, ii. 351. 

, Iron Front, ii. 354. 

, R. C C<dhedral, ii. 362. 

, St. James's Church, ii. 3(53. 

, Methodist Church, ii. 3(;4. 

, Ames Building, ii. 3GS, 374. 

New York,Gracf Church at,ii. 340. 341. 

Calvary Church at, ii. 341. Holy 

Redeemer Church at, ii. 341. 
New Zealand Architecture, ii. 171. 
New Zealand Chambers, ii. 151. 
Nicholai Church, Potsdam, view of, ii. 

Nicholas (St.). St. Petersburgh, plan of 

church, ii. 257. 
Nicolini Palace, Flotrcnce, i 123. 
Nieuwe Kerck, AmtterdMn, ii 286. 



Xinftfenth-c-HtHry-phobia, (xi.) 
\()(iille8, hotol (!<', at Paris, i 277. 
Xonconformi«t Chapelt^ \\. 144, 158. 
Xnrman'SJuiw, ii. 132, 13(5, 141, 151, 152, 

156, 100, 1G8. ; 

Xorth' Weftern Europe^ recent architecture , 

(Vi, ii. 245. I 

Xorwoo*!, church at, ii. 73. 
Xotre Dame de la Bonne Secour. Rouen, 

i. 237. 
NovoBielski, ii. 378. 

Ohio. State Capitol of, ii 339 

Olympico Theatre, Vicenza, ii. 375. 

Ordere, the, Italv, their treatment in, 
(jrm.) i. 102-104. How originally 
ut»ed in Greece, i. 105. 

Orleans, house of Agnes Sorel at, i. 255. 

Ospidale Grande at Milan, i. 104, 1C5. 

Ossoli Palace, Home, i. 140. 

(Htaxca^ ParliamenUtry Library, ii. 170. 

Chulo Kerck, Amsterdam, ii. 236. 

Ouen (St.), Kouen, church of, i. 238. 

Oxford, St. John's College, front of, ii. 11. 
Gateway of schools, ii. 12. Sheldonian 
Theatre* at, ii. 30, 50. Radclifle Li- 
brary at, ii. 61, 62. New Museum at, 
ii. 113. All Souls' College at, ii. 53. 
Taylor and Randolph Institute at, 
11. 8/. 

Oxford MH«eum, ii. 134. 

, the Schitoh, ii. 157, 169. 

Vaihlincftim Baihcay Station, ii. 134. 

Padua, Arena (chapel at, i. 16, 17. 
Cathedral at, i. 109. Church of Sta. 
Giustina at, i. 109. Hall at, ii. 413. 

, John of, ii. 13. 

PagfKlas, Tanjore, <>f, ii. 300. 

Painting, Italy, pre-eminence in, i. 16. 
Renaissance age, art par excellence of, 
i 73. 

Pala<'es, so-called, of Venice, i. 137. 

PaUii* (le Justice, Par in, i. 307. 

Palhulio, i. 42, 43, 102, 103, 126, 133, 144, 
145, 150, 155, 157, 163; ii. 1. 

Palma Palace, Home, i. 143. 

Pancras (St.), Ixmdon, new church of, ii. 
S3. West elevation of, ii. 74. Rail- 
way Station, ii. 416. 

Piiiidoltini Palace, Florence, i. 124. 

Paris, church of St. Eustache, at, i. 219, 
220. St. Etienne at, i. 220. St. Paul 
and St. Louis at, i. 221, 222. Sorh.nne 
at, i. 223. Invalides Church at, i. 224- 
227. St. Sulpice at, i. 227, 228. St. 
Genevieve at, i. 229-234. Madeleine 
at, i 235. Basilican Church St. Vin- 
cent de Paul at, i. 236. Church of la 
Trinite at, i 236. l hurch of St. 
Augustin, i 237. St. Cloth ilde at, i. 
237. Louvre Palai^e at, i. 242-246. 
Pavilion de THorloge at, i. 244 
Ch&teau Madrid at, i. 249, 250. Hotel 


de Ville, i. 253. The Tuileries at, i. 
258-260. Pa\illon Flore of the Tuile- 
ries at, i. 261, 287. Luxemltourg Palaeo 
at, i. 262, 264. Louvwv. Palace at, i. 
271-274. Chateau de Blaisons near,, 
i. 275. Hotels, street fronts of, i. 276. 
Hotel Soubise at, i. 276. Hotel de 
Rohan at, i. 276. Hotel de Xoailles 
at, i. 277. The Great Trianon Palace 
at, i. 278. Arrangement of houses in, 
i. 278. Palais Bourbon at, i. 278. Old 
Pavilion of, i. 283. The Bourse at, i, 
283, 284. Street architecture of, i. 284. 

285. Ixmvre, new buildings of, i. 285, 

286. Libmrv of St. (lenevifeve at, i. 
289. House' Rue Soufflot at, i. 292. 
House Rue des Saussaies at, i. 293. 
House Rue Navarin at, i. 294. Colonne 
do Juillet at, i. 295, 296. Arch of 
Tuileries at, i. 296. Arch Porte St. 
Denis at, i. 29f;, 297. Arch Porte St. 
Martin at, i. 2i)6. Arc de I'Etoile, i. 
297, 298. Entrance to the Ecole Polv- 
technicjue at, i. 2i>9. Xew Russian 
Church, view of, at, ii. 279. Hotel 
de Burgogne, theatre at, ii. 377. Palais 
Roval, theatre at, ii. 377. Dimensions 
&<•.*, X(jw Opera House, ii. 387, 392, 393» 
407. Dimensions Acade'mie de Musique 
at, ii. 387 : plan and section of, ii. 391, 
392. The theatre at, ii. 392. ThcAtro 
Historicjue at, ii. 394, 397. TheAtre 
Italiens at, ii. 394. Strasbourg Rail- 
way Station at, ii. 416. 

Pari*^ artixtif public opinion in, ii. 371. 

, Opera Ilouw, i. 307. 

, Palaif de Jtutire, i. 307. 

, Hotel df Ville, i. 307, 308. 

, Faculty of Medicine, i. 309. 

, XaiioinU Library, i. 310. 

Parker, ii. 121, 124. 

Parliament Houses, Ix>ndon, ii. 92, 96, 

107. Plan of, ii. 108. Hiver front of, 

ii. 109. Victoria Tower, vtc, ii. 110; 

Front iHpiec4' Vol. II. 
Parliament IIoum'* : Berlin, ii. 224. 227. 

, London, ii. 126, 16.% 357. 

, Ottaipa, ii. 170, 172. 

, ^fell^ounu\ ii. 172, 173. 

, Sydfuy, ii 172, 175. 

Parma, Oix'ra-house at, dimensions of, 

ii. 387, 390. 
Paul's (St.), Rome, Old Basilica of. i. 91, 

109, 1 10. 
, Vincent de, Paris. Basilican Chun*li 

of, i. 237. 
, Covent Garden, London, east ele- 

vation of, ii. 25. 

(Old), London, repairs to. vtc, ii. 26, 


,L<mdon. plan as originally designed, 

ii. 31. i^ide elevation of, ii. 32. Plan 
of present cathedral, ii. 3il Half 
elevation of dome, ii. 37. Whisjiering 
gallery, &c., and exterior and internal 
arrangement, ii. 38-42. West view of, 
ii. 41. 

Paulo (San) fuori la Mura, i. 110. 



PauTit (St.\ London, ii. 42, 128, 158. 

Pavia, Cortoaa, near, i. 71, 72, 73. 

PaxtoD, Sir Joseph, ii. 420. 

PnxUm, ii. 12 J. 

Feahoihjy ii. 351. 

Peiicot*!:^ ii. 137. 

Pearium, ii. 187, 158. 

Pedilin oud Kinne<ir, ii. 130. 

Pclefrreni, Verona, fragment from the 
chapel of, i. 24. 

renn^thunif^, ii. 121, 127, 133, 139, 150. 

Pennethome, Sir JamoH, ii. 8»>. 

Porrault, i. 271. 

Penijurino, i. 18. 

Peruzzi, Baldasflare, i. 78, 70, 140. ii. 378. 

Powaro Palace, Venice, i. 134, 135. 

Pentli, Jews' Svnaj^prue at, ii. 214. 

Peter's (St.), Rome, Old Basilica of, i. 74. 

-^— , lionie, i)lan lis prop<«*e(l by Bra- 
mante, i. 70. By San (Tallo' i. 77. 
East front, San Gallo's design, i. 70. 
Arrangement of aislcr), ditto, i. 80. 
Plan at* it now exintn, i. 81. Western 
apne, i. 83. East fn»nt, i. 81. Dome 
of, i. 8.*>. Section of, i. 88 Frnuti«- 
jwVrf, Vol. I. Materials and d^rorations 
of, i. 82. Atrium of, i S{\. 

Pettr\ (St.). a failure /, i. IM). 

. ('aml>ridge, college of, ii. 11. 

, Vnuxhall, ii. 137. 

Peterl)orough Cathednil, ii. 81. 

Petersburph (St.), church in the citadel 
at, ii. 2.'»3, 254. Smolnoy, monastery 
and «^hurch at, ii. 2r)3, 2:)(;. St Alex- 
ander Newski, nionastrry at, ii. 2.")."). 
St. Xichola.s Hi, ii. 2.15, 257. < hir Lady 
of Kasan, ii. 2.')7, 258. Du Kite (irrc 
at, ii. 25l>. St. Catherine's at, ii. 258. 
Zamiene at, ii. 250. St. Isaac at, ii. 
2tW)-2»»i;. Secular Architecture of, ii. 
2fi7. Palaces of, ii. 207. Winter Palace 
at, ii. 207. Tauride Palace at, ii. 208. 
Hermitape Palace at, ii. 208. Arcli- 
duke Michael's Palaee at, ii. 208, 2r,j». 
270. Admiralty at, ii. 270. 271. 'V\w 
Bours«* at, ii. 271. Htat Major at, ii. 
27;{. Institutions des Demoiselles 
Nobles and Military Orphans at, ii. 
273. Barrarks at, ii. 273. Acadcmv 
of Beaux .\rtf* at. ii. 273. Tlu' Library 
at, ii. 273. Medical Sehool at, ii 273. 
Ridinjr-lionses at, ii. 273. The Bank 
at, ii. 271. Foreium Otftee at. ii. 274. 
War Other Mt, ii. 274. Now Museum 
nt. ii. 275 27S. Statue of Peter the 
(rreat at. ii. 280. Kiiiperor Alexan<ler 
c(»lumn at, ii. 2.s(). Opera-house at, ii. 
3S7, 300. Alexander Tlieatre at, ii, 
387, :500 
PW/7, ii. 121, 132. 

Philadelphia, Oirard College at, ii. 338. 
Bank at. ii. 330. Exehanjre at, ii. 330. 
Physicians. ToUegc of. London, ii. 52. 
Pie<'tili»uiini Piilacc. Sienna, ii. 120. 
Piernuirini, ii. 377, 387. 
Pilar del Zaragoza, cathedral, plan of, 

i. 187. View of, i. \^^. 
Pilaster ornament.s. ii 17 
VOL. rr. 

Pinacothek, Munich, half section of, ii. 

Pintelli, Baccio, i. 17, 137. 
Piracy in Architteture, ii. 120. 
Pitti Palace, Florence, cornice of, i. 
J Place des Victoires, i. 278. 
, de Vendome, i. 278. 

Plateresco, the, or Silversmiths' stvle, 

i. 180. 
Playfair, ii. 130. 
Plavfair, ii. ♦JO. 
Plymouth Guildyillu. 140. 
l*olvt(K*hnique, the t>ole, Paris, entrance 

arch of, i. 200 
Pontc, Antonio da, i. 134. 
Ponz, i. 170. 
' Popularising of Art, the, (rii.) 
Porta, Giacomo della, i. 148; ii. 273. 
Port$ea, St. Mary$ Church, ii. 150, 108. 
Portugal, Anrhitecture of, i. 200-21 1. 
Post, ii. 351. 

Po*t Office, London, AV'ir, ii. 151. 
Potsdam, palace at, ii. 180. Xicholai 

Church at, ii. 202. 
Potter, ii. ,351. 
Pov<;t, i. 282. 

Prague, Clerman spire at, ii. 210. 
PrectdcntA, riffht nne. of in »tyU\ ii. 1 10. 
Primattict'io, i. 24r». 
Prince Conmrt, the, ii. 125, 120, 131. 130, 

PnM'uratie Vt»cchie, palace c»f the, 

Veni<;e, i. 128. 
Profe^ionnl Archittct^ the, (xrir.) i. 32 ; 

ii. 7. 
Prudential Assurance Offce^ ii. 145. 
Prycc^ ii. 351. 
' Puijin, ii. 121, 122, 120, 130. 132, 134, 

Pugin (the elder), ii. 100. 101 
(the younger), ii. lol, 102, 105. 

Quetn Anw Stifh, i. 58 ; ii. 120. 137, 151, 
' 152. 154, 150, 100, 108, 358. 

Kadclift'e Librarv, Oxford, ii. 01. View 

of. ii. r,2. 
Jiausomt'^s Artilicial Stone, ii. 142. 
Raphael, i. ls/23, 77, 78, 70, 82, 124, 138, 

Rastrelli, ii. 253, 208. 
licet ut Archittcturc in Anor'c.i. ii. ;»13 

in Kmjland, ii 121. 

in France, i. t{03 

in (icrmani/, ii. 220 

in Jtalfi, i.l72. 

in X. if. I-'uro/n-., ii. 245. 

in Pustia. ii. 282. 

in SfMiiii and Poiimjal^ i. 212. 

Pcctird Officr, Lohdon. ii. VX\. 
Bechmtore, Veniee, view <»f church of. i. 

101. Plan <.f. i. km;. 
Reform Club. London, the, ii. 89, 90 

2 (; 



HegerU Square Seotcli Churchy London^ i. 

Religious Art, dignity of, ii. 8. 

RenaiBsance, the typical forms, earliest 
instance of use of, i. 65. Styles of 
Italy and France compared, i. 300, 301. 

ReruuMdncey in Enghind, ii. 5. 

, the icrenrh at the^ i. 114. 

Ronaldi, ii. 2(K). 

Rimcieh% ii. 351. 

liestoratioHj French and Engli»ht i. 238. 

, J«</-, i. 238 ; ii. 158. 

Rezzonico Palace, Venice, i. 134. 

llict»ardi Palace, Florence, i. 116. Facade 
and section of, i. 118, 119. 

Iiichard*oUy ii 351, 357, 373. 

Richini, i. 165. 

Rickman, ii. 100, 106 

Rimini, 8t. FranceSL'o at, i. 65. 

Robertion, ii. 351. 

Rolmni, ii. 160. 

Rochet id, ii. 137. 

Rococo ItewiiMiince, ii. 151. 

Rohan, Hotel de, at Paris, i. 276. 

Roman OithoUc CJinrcJiea, ii. 147, 158 

Romano, Giulio, i. 143, 102, 163. 

, Collcgio, Rome, the, i. 148. 

Rome, Sistine ChajKd at, i. 17. San Gio- 
vanni Latcrano, »'hurch at, i. 00-03, 
149. St. Paul's, old basilica of, i. 90, 
109, 110. Architectural history of, i. 
137. Dt'ficicncv in civil and domestic^ 
architc<!ture, i. 137. Belvedere Court 
of Vatican nt. i. 138. Lojjjric Court of 
Vatican at, i. 138. Giraud Palazzo at, 
i. 139. Cancellaria Palazzo at, i. 139. 
Famesina Villa near, i. 140. Famcse 
Palace at, i. 140-142. PietroMassima 
Palace at, i. 140. Aujirelo Mtwsinii 
Palace at, i. 140 Ossoli Palace at, 
i. 140. Palnm Palace at, i 143 Sach- 
etti Palace at, i. 143. Astylar and 
arcadcd ntylcH |)rcvulcnt in, i. 142. 
Villa Madania at, i. 143. MuHenin in 
Capitol at, i. 143. I'alace cf the Con- 
seivatori, i. 143. l*optr Julius* Villa 
at, i. 145. Capran)lsv Palace near, i. 
147. Collej^io del la Sapicnza at, i. 
147, 1 18. CoUegio Romano at, i. 148. 
I^)rghcr<o Palace at, i. 148. Barbi*rini 
Palace at, i. 149. Tordinoni Theatre 
at, ii. 377. 

Rome, Finf Art GuJhrita^ i. 174. 

, huildiiig in the Corm, i. 175. 

Roofs, «"urvilinear, i. 100. 

Roselini, i. 74. 

Rosclli, i. 18. 

Rossi, i. 246, ii. 273 

Rotta, Casa, palace, Milan, i. 166. 

Rouen, St Oucn, ( hurch at, i. 237. Car- 
dinal d*AmlK)irtc's tornh at, i. 257. I 
New custom-house at, i. 291. ' 

Ronen, Church of Sh Ililaire, i. 31 1, 313. 

Rotfil Anultnnj fa^uuie, Lowhm, ii. 151. 

Royal Exchange, the, Lond(»n, ii. 79. 

Rucellai Palace, FlorcDce, i. 120, 122. 

Ruhmes-halle, Munich, view of, ii. 197. 

Rmluny 121, 123, 130. 


Russia, introduction to history of Archi> 
teeturc in, ii. 249-253. Ecclesiastical 
Architecture of, ii. 253-266. Secular 
Architecture of, iL 267-281. 

Russia^ recent Arcliitecture tn, ii. 2S2. 

Sachetti Palace, Rome, i. 143. 
Sagraffltti, decoration, luode of, i. 123. 
Salamanca, cathedral at, i. 180. 
Saltash, tubular bridge at, ii. 412. 
Salute, Santa Maria delle, Venice, plan 

of church of, i. 94. View of, i. 96. 
Salzburg, Doin church at, ii. 185. 
Sao gal lo, Antonio, i. 78-82, 86. 

, Giuliano da, i. 120, 138, 140, 143. 

San Rocca, i. 126. 
Sansovino, i. 126, 131, 1.38, 143. 
Santiago, cathedral at, i. 188. 
Sapienza, CoUegio dclla, Rome, facade 

of, i. 147. 
Sanw-'enic style, the, ii. 296. 
Santi Palace, Genoa, i. 160. 
Scala Theatre, Milan, ii. 377. Dimen- 
sions of, ii. 387. Plan and fa(;adc of, 

ii. 388 
Scamozzi, i. 126, 133. 
Scarpagnino, i. 12(> 
i<ceptieii*in, Arehiiectund, ii. 373. 
Si'hmidt, ii. 228. 

Schinkel, ii. 202, 204-207, 402-404, 415. 
Schloss, lii^rlin, th<', ii. 188. 
Schiiubninn, palace at, ii. 188. 
Scotch Kirl's, ii. 144. 
Scotcli Architrcture, ii. 164. 
-Sco«, ii. 121, 127, 134, 136, 137, 139,, 

142, 161, 165, 166. 

, General, ii. 139. 

Scott, General, ii. 406. 

Scott-Russell, ii. 423. 

Screen-work in French churches, i. 257. 

Screen-irork Fa^odrit, i. 105. 

Scutari, mosque of Stdi ui at, ii. 312. 

Selxistian (St.), Mantua, church of. i. 68. 

Secular Golhle, ii. 127. 137, 13i), 145, 

146, 150, 151, 154, 166, Km, 173, 228, 

SeddoH, ii. 137. HW; 
Segovia, catluilml at, i. 181. 
Sens, Epis«'opal palace at, btiy of, i. 254. 
Seo, Zanigoza, cathedral of, i. 18tx 

Cinqueccnto tower of, i. 187. 
Serlio, i. 246 ; ii. 375. 
Scrvandoni, i. 227, 228. 
Sforza, Francesco, i. 164. 
Sqnijfito, ii. 137. 
Sharf)e, ii. 122. 

Shcl.lonian Theatre, Oxford, ii. 30. ."xl. 
Si«'nna, Pic<-olomini Palace at, i. 120 

Spannoci-hi l*alace at, i. 120. 
Signorelli, i. 18. 
SiW, Diego de, i. 181. 
Sfon Collfije, ii. 145. 
Sistine Cha|)el. the, Rome, i. 17. 
Sketehiug, ii UW 
Skerry vore Lighthouse, ii. 412. 
Skirlaw, Hishop, chapel of, ii. 105- 



AShfer, ii. 137. 

SmfiU gtone-trork^ i. 120. 

i^mirke, ii. 121, 127, 151. 

Smirke, Sir Robert, ii. 78, 378. 

Smith field Markets, ii. 139. 

Smithson, ii. 13, 14. 

Sinolnoy, near St. Peteraburgh, monas- 
tery and church of, ii. 253, 256. 

tkKine, ii. 127. 

Soane, Sir John, ii. 74, 91. 

Socialifiic Frincijde /or Art, i. 32. 

Solario, ii. 185. 

Solcr, Juan, i. 206. 

Soniereet house, London, ii. f>3. Southern 
facade, north jjortion of, ii. C3. 

Sonwrset //o?/w, addition to^ ii. 150. 

Sophia (St.), Constantinople, church of, 
ii. 310. 

Sorbonne, Paris, rhurcli of, i. 223. 

Sorel, A^nes, Orleans, house of, i. 255. 

Soubise Hotel, fa<;ado of, i. 27^*. 

Scufflot, i. 229. 

Spain, Moorish remains in, i. 178. 
Media!val autiquiticH of, i. 178. Three 
epcK'hs of art in, i. 179, 180. Ecclesias- 
tical Architecture of, i. 180-197. 
Secular Architecture of, i. 197-209 
Exuberance of style in,i. 197,202,203. 

Spanuocchi Palace, Sienna, i. 120. 

Spires of northern Gothic churches, i. 98. 

Santo Spirito, Florence, plan of church 
of, i. €>S. Section of, i. G4. 

Staroft*, ii. 255 

Statue of Peter the Gnut, St. Peters- 
burgh, ii. 28(K 

St(rjjht»^8 (St ), Kmxiiidton^ ii. 137. 

Stephen's (St.), Wall)n«.k, London, 
church, plan and section of, interior 
ot; i. Uk 47. 

•*»7* (v/ii<ow, ii. R;o 

Stockholm, palace ni^ ii. 242 Plan of, 
ii. 213. View of, ii. 244. 

Stmwberry Hill, mansion of, ii. 9r,, 97. 

Street Architecture, Paris, of, i. liSl, 


Strett, i. 300; ii. 132, 133. I'M], 137, 140, 

142, 144, 14.5, 149, 105, 100, 1(7, 108 
Strozzi Palac«', Florence, i. 119. 
Stuart, ii. 71. 
Stuler, ii. 204. 
Sueur, Le, i. 288. 
Sutflot. ii. 377, 397. 
Sulpice (St.). Paris, cliurch of, i. 227. 

Fa(;ad«; <.f, i. 228. I'lan of jM.rch of, 

i. 228. 
Sui)erjLra, Turin, clnir<'h of, i. i>7. 
Surjreons' Collcf^'c, Londt>n, fa<;adc r»f. ii. 

Sydney rarlinmint Houn*^ ii. 174, 175, 


, \Vttnh(nint\^ ii. 17»s 177. 

Syna«rov'"«s J'ws', Peslli, ii. 214. View 

of, ii. 214. 

Tanjnre, pafriMias at, ii. 300. I 

Tauride Palace, St. Petersbur^'h, ii. 209. 

Tavlor and Randolph Institute, Oxford, 
il. 87. 

Taylor, Robert, ii. 08. 

Te, palazzo del, Mantua, i. 1G2, 163. 

Telford and Stephenson, ii. 411. 

Tcmanza, i. 126. 

Temple Newsam, ii. 15. 

Temple Gardens Chambers, ii. 151. 

Temple Library, ii. 134. 

Terra-cotta, ii. 136, 137, 142, 145, 160. 

Tessin, Nicodemus de, ii. 243. 

Teuton, ii. 137. 

Theatres, of modem times, importance 
and prevalence of, ii. 375. Italy, 
Spain, Fnxnce, and England, earliest 
of, ii. 370. Modern, constniction of, 
ii. 378-386. Classitication of, ii. 386. 
Lyric, principal dimensions of, *c., ii. 
387-394. Dramatic. prin<*ipal dimen- 
sions. Ac. ii. 394-404. Music-halls, ii. 

Thf-atre/t, French, i 307. 

, Recent, ii. 407. 

, the two dangtrt', ii. 40S 

Theseus, Temples of, Vienna, ii. 212. 

ThoniHon^ ii. It 59 

TlmuKmd, ii. 271. 

Th>mi(tH'» (St.) Ilospitnl ii. 139, 142. 

Thornton, Dr. W., ii. 330. 

Time Palace, Vi»*enza, facade of, i. 151 

Titc, Sir W., ii. 79. 

Tite,l 110; ii. 121, 128, 130. 

Titz, ii. 412. 

T<Hli, church at, plan, i. 09. Section of, 
i. 70. Elevation of, i. 71. 

TokoiolK ii. 273. 

Toledo. Alcazar at, i. 203. 204. 

Toml»s, Dutch, at Sunit. ii 290. 

Tophana, mosque at. ii. 3! 2. 

Tonlin< mi Theatre. Koiue. lu>rHcslioc form 
first intrcnluced in. ii. 377. 

TravellcrK' Club, Lond»m, ii. 89. 

Treasury lUiildings, London, nortli front 
of, ii. 59. 

Triusnry, tht\ London, ii. 139. 

Tressini, ii 253. 

Trevisano Palace. Venice, i. 128. 

Trianon, tlie great Paris hotel of, i. 278 

at Versa ilhs, i. 277. 

La Trinite. Paris, i. 230. 

Trinity Colb'ge, C'ambridire. Neville's 
C<»urt of, ii. 11. Court- of library, view 
of, ii. 51. 

Trinity Church, AVjr Ynrh, ii. 351. 
, Jio^ton, ii. 3.')9, 3«;o. 

Trophies and tombs in France, i. 21»4-3O0. 

Truro Cothtdrol^ ii. 15S. 

Tutnu Cathcdmh ii 137. 

Tuilerics, the Paris. <'(»mjiiene«'inent of, 
i. '17^S. Central j)aviiinn of, De Lorine's 
(lesijrn, i. 259. Flore pavilion, i. 201, 
2^:7. Arch of, i. 29i;. 

Turin. Sujx'rga near. i. 97. Arebitectural 
buiMiuL's. deli'ieni'v in, i. HH! Op ra- 
Imuse, tlie <linienaions of, ii. 387. 

Turkev, historv of Renaissance Archi- 
tecture. commenceUH'Ut in, ii. 310. 
Saraccni(^ style in, ii. 310. Mosques 



of, ii. 312-316. Palacee of, ii. 316- 

United Stnte$f recent Architecture in, 
{xiii.\ ii. 343. (See Americtt.) 

Univeraitics of Li«*g.? and Ghent, ii. 235. 

Utah, proposed Mormon temples ut, ii. 
341, 342. 

Valdevira, i. 183. 

Valladoliil, oatliednvl at, plan of, i. 186. 
MutcriniK, &o., of, i. 185. 

Valiniirinu Palace, Vicenza, i. 42. 

Van lirnni^ ii. 3ol. 

Vanbrugh, Sir John, ii. 53-,-)8. 

Vandrainini Palaee, Voniee, i. 12D. 

Vanvitt'lli, i. MM). 

Yaronikin, ii. 257. 

Vasili Blannkcnov at Mcmh-ow, ii. 278. 

Vatican, Koni<?, Belvedi'n^ Court of, i. 138. 
Loggie CVmrt of, i. 138, 139. 

Fa MX, ii. 351. 

Venicv, (iriinani Palace at, i. 41. Santn 
Maria delle Slaute at, i. 115, 96, 134. 
San Simone Minore at, i. H4. San Zac- 
caria at, i. 100. San Fntnc* scu <lclla 
Vignaat, i. 102. San (5 iorgio Maggiore 
at, i. 102, 10(). Sta. Maria Zobcnico at, 
i. 103, 134. Secular Archit^ctun- of, i. 
125-13t>. (iothic Htyle in, i. 126 L:- 
ternal court and north-east angl(! of 
Ducal Palaoi* at, i. 126, 127. TrcviKano 
at, i. 12S. Vandniniini Palav at, i. 
129. PnK'uratic Vccchie at, i. 128. 
C/omaro at, i. 1*J8, 131. fann'rlinglii 
at, i. VM). Griniani at, i. IIIO. Library 
of St. Mark at, i. 131-133. Do la 
('arita Conv(?«t at, i. 133 Prison at, 
i. 134. Zecca Palace at, i. 134. Pesart.) 
Palace at, i. 131, 135. PiHano Pala<'c 
at, i. 131. Hezzonico l*alac(» at, i. IIH. 
Doiuestie Architecture c»f, i. 136. 
Theatre at, ii. 375. Fenicc Theatre, 
dimensions of, at, ii. 387. Castello del 
Lido at, ii. 424. 

Verity^ ii. 151. 

Ven»na, fragment froiu the Pelegrini 
Chapel at, i. 23. Fortifications and 
gatt?ways ait, ii. 424. 

Versaillew Palace, tin-, as it now exists, 
plan of, i. 267. StM»tion of great gal- 
lery, A